
fopyiigto 1^?_ 



COPXRICHT DEPOSm 



MR. PUNCH'S 

MODEL MUSIC-HALL 

SONGS AND DRAMAS 



COLLECTED, IMPROVED, AND RE-ARRANGED FROM 

"PUNCH" 



BY 

F. ANSTEY 

AUTHOR OF 
THE TINTED VENUS," "VICE VERSA," "A FALLEN IDOL," 

"the giant's robe," ETC= 



NEW YORK . 

NATIONAL BOOK COMPANY 
3, 4, 5 AND 6 mission place 



61^ 

foyo 



MR. PUNCH'S 

MODEL MUSIC-HALL SONGS 

AND DRAMAS 



MR. PUNCH'S 

MODEL MUSIC-HALL 
SONGS AND DRAMAS 



COLLECTED, IMPROVED, AND RE-ARRANGED FROM 

"PUNCH" 



BY 



F. ANSTEY I J)Se 

AUTHOR OF 

THE TINTED VENUS," "VICE VERSA," "A FALLEN IDOL,' 
"the giant's KOBE," ETCo 



„'ff!\f D ^- fr 



.. 1^ 

NEW YORK 



NATIONAL BOOK COMPANY 

3, 4, 5 AND 6 MISSION PLACE 






Copyright, 1892, 

BY 

UNITED STATES BOOK COMPANY, 



[A /I rights reserved.] 



CONTENTS 



Introduction 



PAGE 

9 



SONGS. 



I. 


The Patriotic . 


. 


1 




23 


II. 


The Topical-Political 


• 




28 


III. 


A Democratic Ditty 


1 . • 1 




34 


IV. 


The Idyllic 








39 


v. 


The Amatory Episodic . ' 








43 


VI. 


The Chivalrous , 








49 


VII. 


The Prankly Canaille . 








54 


VIII. 


The Dramatic Scena 








62 


IX. 


The Duettists 








69 


X. 


Disinterested Passion . 








76 


XI. 


The Panegyric Patter 








81 


XII. 


The Plaintively Pathetic 








87 


XIII. 


The Military Impersonator 






92 




DRAMAS. 











I. The Little Crossing-Sweeper 
II. Joe, The Jam-eater 

III. The Man-Trap 

IV. The Fatal Pin ... 

5 



99 

108 
117 
125 



6 



CONTENTS. 



V. Bruxette and Blaxchidine 

TI. CoMixG OF Age 

Til. Eeclaimed! 

Till. Jack Parker . 

IX. Under the Harrow 

X. To3iMY AND Sister Jane 

XI. The Rival Dolls . 

XII. Conead ; or, the Thumbsucker 



PAGE 

134 

143 
153 
169 
177 
194 
202 
212 



MODEL MUSIC HALL, 



INTRODUCTION. 



INTRODUCTION. 



The day is approaching, and may even now be 
within measurable distance, when the Music Halls 
of the Metropolis will find themselves under yet 
more stringent supervision than is already exer- 
cised by those active and intelligent guardians of 
middle-class morality, the London County Council. 
The moral microscope which detected latent inde- 
cency in the pursuit of a butterfly by a marionette 
is to be provided with larger powers, and a still 
more extended field. In other words, our far- 
sighted and vigilant County Councilmen, per- 
ceiving the futility of delaying the inspection of 
Variety Entertainments until such improprieties 
as are contained therein have been suffered to 
contaminate the public mind for a considerable 
period, are determined to nip these poison-flowers 
in the bud for the future ; and, unless Mr. 
Punch is misinformed, will apply to Parliament at 
the earliest opportunity for clauses enabling them 
to require each item in every forthcoming per- 

9 



10 3IR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

forinaiice to be previously submitted to a special 
committee for sanction and approval. 

The conscientious rigor with which they will 
discharge this new and congenial duty, may per- 
haps be better understood after perusing the little 
prophetic sketch which follows ; for Mr. Punch's 
Poet, when not employed in metrical composition, 
is a Seer of some pretensions in a small way, and 
several of his predictions have already been shame- 
lessly plagiarized by the unscrupulous hand of 
Destiny. It is not improbable that this latest 
effort of his will receive a similar compliment, 
although this would be more gratifying if Destiny 
ever condescended to acknowledge such obliga- 
tions. However, here is the forecast for what it 
is worth, a sum of incalculable amount : — 

POETIC LICENSES. 

A VISION OF THE NEAR FUTURE. 

Scene. — A committee-room of the L. C C. ; Sub- 
committee of Censors (^ajjpointed, under new regu- 
lations^ to re'port on all songs intended to he sung 
on the Music-Hall Stage^^ discovered in session. 

Me. Wheedler (retained for the hallad-writers^. 
The next license I have to apply for is for — well 



INTRODUCTION. 11 

(with some 7iesitation), — 2i composition which cer- 
tainly borders on th — er — amorous; but I think, 
sir, you will allow that it is treated in a purely 
pastoral and Arcadian spirit. 

The Chairman {gravely). There are arcades, 
Mr. Wheedler, I may remind you, which are by no 
means pastoral. I cannot too often repeat that we 
are here to fulfil the mission intrusted to us by 
the Democracy, which Avill no longer tolerate in 
its entertainments anything that is either vulgar, 
silly, or offensive in the slightest degree. 

[Applause, 

Mr. Wheedler. Quite so. With your per- 
mission, sir, I will read you the ballad. 

\^Reads. 



"MOLLY AND I. 

" Oh ! the day shall be marked in red letter" — 
The Chairman. One moment, Mr. Wheedler 
(conferring with his colleagues). "Marked with 
red letter " — isn't that a little — eh ? liable to — 
You don't think they'll have read Hawthorne's 
book ? Very well, then. Go on, Mr. Wheedler, 
please. 

Mr. W. " 'Twas warm, with a heaven so blue." 
First Censor. Can't pass those two epithets 



12 ME. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL, 

— you must tone them down, Mr. Wheedler — 
much too suofQ^estive ! 

Mr. W. That shall be done. • 

The Chairman. And it ought to be " sky." 

Mr. W. " When amid the lush meadows I met her, 

My Molly, so modest and true I " 
Second Censor. I object to the word '' lush " 

— a direct incitement to intemperance ! 
Mr. W. I'll strike it out. (Beads.} 

" Around us the little kids rollicked, 
Light-hearted were all the young lambs — 

Second Censor. Surely " kids " is rather a 
vulgar expression, Mr. Wheedler ? Make it " chil- 
dren^^^ and I've no objection. 

Mr. W. I have made it so. (Reads.') 

" They kicked up their legs as they frolicked " — • 

Third Censor. If that is intended to be done 
on the stage, I protest most strongly — a liighly 
indecorous exhibition ! [Murmurs of approval. 

Mr. W. But they're only lambs ! 

Third Censor. Lambs, indeed ! We are de- 
termined to put down all kicking in Music-hall 
songs, no matter who does it ! Strike that line 
out. 



INTRODUCTION. 13 

Mr. W. (reading^. "And frisked by the side 
of their dams." 

First Censor (severely). No profanity, Mr. 
Wheedler, if you please ! 

Mr. W. Er — I'll read you the refrain. (Beads, 
limply.) 

" Molly and I. With nobody nigh. 

Hearts all a-throb with a. rapturous bliss. 
Molly was shy. And (at first) so was I, 

Till I summoned up courage to ask for a 

kiss!" 

The Chairman. " Nobody nigh," Mr. Wheed- 
ler? I don't quite like that. The Music Hall 
ought to set a good example to young per- 
sons. "Molly and I — with her chaperon %," is 
better. 

Second Censor. And that last line — " ask- 
ing for a kiss " — does the song state that they 
were formally engaged, Mr. Wheedler ? 

Mr. W. I — I believe it omits to mention the 
fact. But (ingenuously)^ it does not appear that 
the request was complied with. 

Second Censor. No matter — it should never 
had been made. Have the goodness to alter that 
into — well, something of this kind. " And I 



14 MU. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

always addressed her politely as " Miss." Then 
we mai/ pass it. 

Mr. W. (reading the next verse^. 

" She wore but a simple sun-bonnet." 

First Censor (sJiocJced}. Now really, Mr. 
Wheedler, really., sir ! 

Mr. W. " For Molly goes plainly attired." 

First Censor (indignantly^. I should think 
so — Scandalous! 

Mr. W. " Malediction I muttered upon it, 

One glimpse of her face I desired." 

The Chairman. I think my colleague's ex- 
ception is perhaps just a leetle far-fetched. At all 
events, if we substitute for the last couplet, — 

" Her dress is sufficient — though on it 
She only spends what is strictly required." 

Eh, Mr. Wheedler? Then we work in a moral as 
well, you see, and avoid malediction, which can 
only mean bad language. 

Mr. W. (doubtfidly') . With all respect, I sub- 
mit that it doesn't scan quite so well — 

The Chairman (sJiarjjly?) . /venture to think 
scansion maybe sacrificed to ])io])Yietj., occasionally^ 
Mr. W heedler — but pray go on. 



INTIIOBUCTION. 15 

Mr. W. (^contimdng^ . 

'' To a streamlet we rambled together, 
I carried her tenderly o'er. 
In my arms — she's as light as a feather — 
That sweetest of burdens I bore ! " 

First Censoe. I really must protest. No 
properly conducted young woman would ever have 
permitted such a thing. You must alter that, Mr. 
Wheedler ! 

Second C. And I don't know — but I rather 
fancy there's a " double-intender " in that word 
" light " — (to colleague) — It strikes me — eh ? — 
what do you think ? 

The Chairman (in a conciliatory manner). I 
am inclined to agree to some extent — not that 
I consider the words particularly objectionable in 
themselves, but we are men of the world, Mr. 
Wheedler, and as such we cannot shut our eyes to 
the fact that a Music-hall audience is only too apt 
to find significance in many apparently innocent 
expressions and phrases. 

Mr. W. But, sir, I understood from your re- 
marks recently that the Democracy were strongly 
opposed to anything in the nature of suggestive- 
ness! 



16 3fB. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

The Ch. Exactly so ; and therefore we cannot 
allow tlieir susceptibilities to be shocked. ( With 
a severe jocosity. ~) Molly and you, Mr. Wheedler, 
must either ford the stream like ordinary persons, 
or stay where you are. 

Mr. W. (depressed). I may as well read the 
last yerse, I suppose : — 

" Then under the flickering willow 
I lay by the rivulet's brink, 
With her lap for a sumptuous pillow " — 

First Censor. We can't have that. It is 
really not respectable. 

The Ch. (pleasantly) . Can't we alter it slightly ? 
" I'd brought a small portable pillow." No objec- 
tion to that ! 

[ The other Censors express dissent in underton^:'^ 

Mr. W. " Till I owned that I longed for a drinkl" 

Third C. No, no! "A drink!" We all 

know what that means — alcoholic stimulant of 

some kind. At all events that's how the audience 

are certain to take it. 

Mr. W. (feebly), 

" So Molly her pretty hands hollowed 
Into curves like an exquisite cup, 
And draughts so delicious I swallowed. 
That rivulet nearly dried up! " 



INTRODUCTION. 17 

Thikd C. Well, Mr. Wheedler, you're not 
going to defend that^ I hope ? 

Mr. W. I'm not prepared to deny that it is 
silly — very silly — but hardly — er — vulgar, I 
should have thought? 

Third C. That is a question of taste, which 
we won't dispute. / call it distinctly vulgar. 
A¥hy can't he drink out of his own hands? 

The Ch. (blandly^. Allow me. How would 
this do for the second line ? " She had a collapsi- 
ble cup." A good many people do carry them. 
I have one myself. Is that all of your ballad, 
Mr. Wheedler? 

Mr. W. (with great relief^. That is all, sir. 

\_Censors withdraw^ to consider the question. 

The Ch. (after consultation with colleagues'). 
We have carefully considered this song, and we 
are all reluctantly of opinion that we cannot, con- 
sistently with our duty, recommend the Council 
to license it — even with the alterations my col- 
leagues and myself have gone somewhat out of 
our way to suggest. The whole subject is too 
dangerous for a hall in which young persons of 
both sexes are likely to be found assembled ; and 
the absence of any distinct assertion that the 
young couple — Molly and — ah — the gentleman 



18 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL 31 U SIC HALL. 

who narrates the experience — are betrothed, or 
that their attachment is in any way sanctioned by 
their parents or guardians, is quite fatal. If we 
have another ballad of a similar character from the- 
same quarter, Mr. Wheedler, I feel bound to waru: 
you that we may possibly consider it necessary to 
advise that the poet's license should be cancelled 
altogether. 

Mr. W. I will take care to mention it to my 
client, sir. I understand it is his intention to 
confine himself to writing Gayety burlesques in 
future. 

The Ch. A very laudable resolution ! I hope 
he will keep it. [_Sce7ie closes in. 

It is hardly possible that any IMusic-hall Mana- 
ger or vocalist, irreproachable as he may hitherto 
have considered himself, can have taken this 
glimpse into a not very remote futurity without 
symptoms of uneasiness, if not of positive dismay. 
He will reflect that the ballad of " Molly and I," 
however reprehensible it may appear in the fierce 
light of an L. C. C. Committee Room, is innocu- 
ous, and even moral, compared to the ditties in 
his own re2:)ertoire. How, then, can he hope, Avhen 
his hour of trial strikes, to confront the ordeal 
with an unruffled shirt-front, or a collar that shall 



INTEOBUCTION. 19 

retain the inflexiMlity of conscious innocence? 
And lie will wish then that he had confined him- 
self to the effusions of a bard who could not be 
blamed by the most censorious moralist. 

Here, if he will only accept the warning in- 
time, is his best safeguard. He has only to buy 
this little volume, and inform his inquisitors that 
the songs and business with which he proposes to 
entertain an ingenuous public are derived from 
the immaculate pages of Mr. Punch. Whereupon 
censure will be instantly disarmed, and criticism 
give place to congratulation. It is just possible, 
to be sure, that this somewhat confident predic- 
tion smacks rather of the poet than the seer, and 
that even the entertainment supplied by Mr. 
Punch's Music Hall may, to the purist's eye, 
present features as suggestive as a horrid vulgar 
clown, or as shocking as a butterfly, an insect 
notorious for its frivolity. But then, so might the 
''songs and business " of the performing canary, 
or the innocent sprightliness of the educated flea, 
with its superfluity of legs, all absolutely unclad. 
At all events, the compiler of this collection ven- 
tures to hope that, whether it is fortunate enough 
to find favor or not with Music-hall "artistes," 
literary critics, and London County Councilmen, 



20 ME. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

it contains nothing particularly objectionable to 
the rest of the British public. And very likely, 
even in this modest aspiration, he is over-sanguine, 
and his little joke will be taken seriously. Earn- 
estness is so alarmingly on the increase in these 
days. 



MODEL MUSIC HALL. 



SONGS. 



1. — THE PATRIOTIC. 

This stiriiDg ditty — so thoroughly sound and 
practical under all its sentiment — has been spe- 
cially designed to harmonize with the recently 
altered tone of Music-hall audiences, in which a 
spirit of enlightened Radicalism is at last happily 
discernible. It is hoped that, both in rhyme and 
metre, the verses will satisfy the requirements of 
this most elegant form of composition. The song 
is intended to be shouted through music in the 
usual manner by a singer in evening dress, who 
should carry a small Union Jack carelessly thrust 
inside his waistcoat. The title is short but tak- 
ing : — 

ON THE CHEAP! 

First Verse. 
Of a Navy insufficient cowards croak, deah 

boys ! 
If our place among the nations we're to keep;. 
But with British beef, and beer, and hearts of oak, 

deah boys I — 
( With enthusiasm. ~) We can make a shift to do it 
— • On the Cheap ! 
, 23 



24 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

Chorus. 

(^With a commorirsense air.) Let us keep, deah 

boys ! On the Cheap, 
While Britannia is the boss upon the deep. 
She can wollop an invader, when he comes in his 

Armada, 
If she's let alone to do it — On the Cheap ! 

Second Verse. 

(^Affectionately.) Johnny Bull is just as plucky as 

he luas^ deah boys ! 
( With a knowing wink.') And he's wide awake — 

no error ! — not asleep ; 
But he won't stump up for ironclads — becos, deah 

boys ! 
He don't see his way to get 'em — • On the Cheap ! 

Chorus. 

So keep, deah boys ! On the Cheap, 

(Gallantly.) And we'll chance what may hap- 
pen on the deep ! 

For we can't be the losers if we save the cost o' 
cruisers, 

And contentedly continue — On the Cheap ! 



THE PATRIOTIC. 25 

Third Verse. 

The British Isles are not the Conti-nong, deah 

boys ! 
(^Scornfully.^ Where the Johnnies on defences 

spend a heap. 
No ! we're Britons, and we're game to jog along, 

. deah boys ! 
(^With pathos.^ In the old time-honored fashion 

— On the Cheap ! 

Chorus. 

(^Imploringly.) Ah keep, deah boys ! On the 

Cheap ; 
For the price we're asked to pay is pretty steep. 
Let ns all unite to dock it, keep the money in our 

pocket, 
And we'll conquer or we'll perish — On the 

Cheap ! 

Fourth Verse, 

If the Tories have the cheek to touch our purse, 

deah boys ! 
Their reward at the elections let 'em reap ! 
They will find a big Conservative reverse, deah 

boys ! 
If they can't defend the country — On the Cheap ! 



26 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

Chorus-. 

They must keep, cleah boys ! On the Cheap, 

Or the lot out of office we will sweep I 

Bull gets rusty when you tax him, and his patriotic 

maxim 
Is, " I'll trouble you to govern — On the Cheap ! " 

Fifth Verse (this to be sung shrewdly^. 

If the gover'ment ain't mugs they'll take the tip, 

cleali boys ! 
Just to look a bit ahead before they leap, 
And instead of laying down an extry ship, deah 

boys ! 
They'll cut down the whole caboodle — - On the 

Cheap ! 

Chorus Qivith spirit arid fervor). 

And keep, deah boys ! On the Cheap ! 
For we ain't like a bloomin' lot o' sheep. 
When we want to " parry bellum," ^ 

\_Union Jack to he ivaved here. 
You may bet yer boots we'll tell 'em ! 
But we'll have the " bellum " " parried " — On the 
Cheap ! 

I Music-ball Latinity — '^ Para Bellum." 



THE PATRIOTIC. 27 

This song, if sung with any spirit, should, Mr. 
Punch thinks, cause a positive furore in ^ny truly 
patriotic gathering, and possibly go some way 
towards influencing^ the decision of the country, 
and consequently the fate of the empire, in the 
next general elections. In the meantime it is at 
the service of any Champion ]\Iusic Hall Comique 
who is capable of appreciating it. 



II.— THE TOPICAL-POLITICAL. 

In most respects, no doubt, the present example 
can boast no superiority to ditties in the same 
style now commanding the ear of the public. 
One merit, however, its author does claim for it. 
Though it deals with most of the burning ques- 
tions of the hour, it can be sung anywhere with 
absolute security. This is due to a simple but 
ingenious method by which the political sentiment 
has been arranged on the reversible principle. A 
little alteration here and there will put the singer 
in close touch with an audience of almost any 
shade of politics. Should it happen that the 
title has been already anticipated, Mr. Punch begs 
to explain that the remainder of this sparkling 
composition is entirely .original ; any similarity 
with previous w^orks must be put down entirely to 
" literary coincidence." Whether the title is new 
or not, it is a very nice one, viz. ; — - 



28 



THE TOPICAL-POLITICAL. 29 

BETWEEN YOU AND MB - AND THE 
POST. 

(^To he sung in a raucous voice^ and ivith a confiden- 
tial air.^ 

I've dropped in to whisper some secrets I've heard, 
Between you and me and the Post ! 

Picked up on the wing by a 'cute little bird. 

We are gentlemen 'ere — so the caution's absurd, 

Still, you'll please to remember that every word 
Is between you and me and the Post ! 

Chorus (to which the singer should dance'). 

Between you and me and the Post ! An 'int is 

sufficient at most. 
I'd very much rather this didn't go farther, than 

'tween you and me and the Post ! 

At Lord Sorlsbury's table there's sech a to-do. 

Between you and me and the Post ! 
When he first ketches sight of his dinner menoo^ 
And sees he's set down to good old Irish stoo — 
Which he's sick of by this time — now, tell me, 

ain't you f 

Between you and me and the Post ! 
( This happy and pointed allusion to the Irish Ques- 
tion is sure to provoke loud laughter from an 
audience of Radical sympathies. For Unionists^ 



30 MR. PUNCH'S MOBEL MUSIC HALL. 

the to or ds "Lord Sorlsbuiy's " can he altered hy 

our 2^ at ent reversible metliod into " tlie G. O. M.'s," 

ivithout at all impairing; the satire.y Chorus^ as 

before. 

Tke G. O. M.'s hiding a card "Uf Ms sleeve. 

Between you and me and the Post ! 

Any ground he has lost he is going to retrieve, 

And what his Little game is, he'll let us perceive, 

And he'll pip the whole lot of 'em, so I believe, 

Between you and me and the Post I 

( Chorus.') 

(^The hit will be made quite as jj alp ably for the other 

side by substituting " Lord Sorlsbury's," etc.^ at 

the beginning of the first line., should tdie majority 

of the audience be found to hold Co?iservative 
views.) 

Little Randolph won't long be left out in the cold. 

Between you and me and the Post !. 
If they let him inside the Conservative fold, 
He has promised no longer he'll swagger and; 

scold,. 
But to be a good boy, and to do as he's told. 

Between you and me and the Post ! 

(^Chorus.) 
(The mere mention of Lord Randolph's name is 
sufficient to ensure the success of any song.) 



TUB TOPICAL-POLITICAL. 31 

Joey Cliamberlain's orcliid's a bit overblown, 
Between you and me and tbe Post ! 

(^Tkis is rather subtle^ 2:>erJiaps, but an M. H, 
audience will see a joke in it somewhere^ and 
laugh. ^ 

'Ow to square a round table I'm sure he lias shown. 

(Same observatio7i applies here.^ 

But of late he's been leaving his old friends alone, 
And I fancy he's grinding an axe of his own, 

Between you and me and the Post ! 

( Chorus,') 
( We noiv jjass on to Topics of the Dai/, which ive 

treat in a light but trenchant fashion.) 

On the i]oo County Councils they've too manj^ nobs, 

B-etween you and me and the Post ! 
For the swells stick together, and &neer at the 



And it's always the rich man the poor one who 

. robs. 
We shall 'ave the old business — all jabber and 
jobs ! 
Between you and me and the Post ! 

(^Chorus.) ■ 
(N. B. This verse should not be read to the L. C. C, 
who might 7niss the fun of it.) 



32 MB. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

There's a new rule for ladies presented at Court, 

Between you and me and the Post ! 
High necks are allowed, so no colds will be 

cort, 
But I went to the droring-room lately, and 

thort 
Some old wimmen had dressed quite as low as 

they ort! 

Between you and me and the Post ! 

(^CJiorus.') 

By fussy alarmists we're too much annoyed, 
Between you and me and the Post ! 

If we don't want our neighbors to think we're 
afroid, 

[i!f! S^. 7'Jii/me. 

Spending dibs on defence we had better avoid. 
And give 'em instead to the poor unemployed. 

[^M. H. political economy. 
Between you and me and the Post ! 

(^Choims.^ 

This style of perlitical singing ain't hard, 
Between you and me and the Post! 

As a '^Mammoth Comique " on the bills I am 
starred, 



THE TOPICAL-POLITICAL. 33 

And, so long as I'm called, and angcored, and 

hurrar'd, 
I can rattle off rubbish like this by the yard, 

Between you and me and the Post ! 

[ Chorus^ and dance off to sing the same song — with 
or without alterations — in another place. 



III.— A DEMOCRATIC DITTY. 

The following example, altliough it gives a not 
wholly inadequate expression to what are under- 
stood to be the loftier aspirations of the most 
advanced and earnest section of the New Democ- 
racy, should not be attempted, as yet^ before a 
West-End audience. In South or East London, 
the sentiment and philosophy of the song may 
possibly excite rapturous enthusiasm ; in the West- 
End, though the tone is daily improving, they are 
not educated quite up to so exalted a level at 
present. Still, as an experiment in proselytism, it 
might be worth risking, even there. The title it 
bears is : — 

GIVEN AWAY -WITH A POUND OF TEA! 
Veese I. — (^Introductory.') 

Some Grocers have taken to keeping a stock 
Of ornaments — such as a vase, or a clock — 
With a ticket on each, where the words you may 

see : — 
" To be given away — with a Pound of Tea! " 

34 



A DEMOCRATIC BITTY. 35 

Chorus (in waltz time),. 
" Given away ! " 
That's what they say. 
Gratis — a present it's offered you free. 
Given away, 
With nothing to pay, 
" Given away — \tenderly'\ — with a Pound of 
Tea!" 

Verse II. — (Containing the moral reflectioji.) 

Now, the sight of those tickets gave me an idear. 
What it -set me a-thinking you're going to 'ear : 
I thought there were things that would possibly be 
Better given away — with a Pound of Tea ! 

Chorus. — " Given away." So much as to say, etc. 

Verse III. — (This, as being rather personal than 
general in its application., may need some apology. 
It is really pnt in as a graceful concession to the 
taste of an average Music-hall audience., who like 
to he assured that the artists who amuse them are 
as unfortunate as they are erratic in their domes- 
tic relations.) 

Now, there's my old Missus who sits up at 'ome — 
And when I sneak i^jo-stairs my 'air she will 
comb, — 



36 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

I don't think I'd call it bad business if s7ie 
Could be given away — with a Pound of Tea ! 

Chorus. — " Given away ! " That's what they say, 
etc. \_Mutatis mutandis. 

Verse IV. — {flying at higher game. The social 
satire here is perhaps almost too good-natured., 

■ seeing what intolerable pests all peers are to the 
truly Democratic mind. But ive must ivalk before 
we can run. Good-humored contempt will do 
very IV ell., for the present?) 

Fair Americans snap up the pick of our Lords. 
It's a practice a sensible Briton applords. 

\This will check any groaning at the mention of 
Aristocrats. 

Far from grudging our Dooks to the pretty 

Yan-kee, — 
^Magnanimously .') Why, we'd give 'em away — 

with a Pound of Tea ! 

Chorus. — Give 'em away ! So we all say, etc. 

Verse V. — (^More frankly Democratic still.^ 

To-wards a Republic we're getting on fast ; 
Many old institootions are things of the past. 



A DEMOCRATIC DITTY. 37 

(^Philosophically.^ Soon the Crown '11 go, too, as 

an a-nomalee, 
And be given away — with a Pound of Tea ! 
Chorus. — " Given away ! " Some future day, etc. 

Veese VI. — ( Which expresses the peaceful procliv- 
ities of the populace ^vith equal eloquence and 
wisdom. A welcome contrast to the era ivhen 
Britons had a bellicose and immoral belief in the 
possibility of being called upon to defend them- 
selves at some time /) 

We've made up our minds — though the Jingoes 

may jor — 
Under no provocation to drift into war ! 
So the best thing to do with our costly Na-vee 
Is — Give each ship away, with a Pound of Tea ! 

Choj'us. — Give 'em away, etc. 

Verse VII. — We cannot well avoid some refer- 
ence to the Irish Question in a Music-hall ditty., 
but observe the logical and statesmanlike method 
of treating it here. The argument — if crudely 
stated — is borroived from some advanced by our 
foremost politicians.^ 

We've also discovered at last that it's crule 

To deny the poor Irish their right to 'Ome Rule ! 



38 MR. PUJ^CH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

So to give 'em a Parlyment let us agree — 
(^Rationally.^ Or tliey may blow us up with a 
Pound of their " Tea " ! 

\^A ewphemism 'which may possibly he i^ememhered 
and understood. 

Chorus. — Give it away, 'etc. 

Verse VIII. (culminating in a glorious prophetic 
hurst of the Coming Dawn.') 

Iniquitous burdens and rates we'll relax : 

For each "h " that's pronounced we will clap on a 

tax ! 

[^ very popular measure. 

And a nouse in Belgraveyer, with furniture free, 

Shall each Soshalist sit in, a-taking his tea ! 

Chorus, and dance off. — Given away ! Ippipooray ! 

Gratis we'll o-et it for nothino- and free ! 
Given away ! Not a penny to pay ! Given away ! 

— with a Pound of Tea ! 

If this Democratic Dream does not appeal 
favorably to the imagination of the humblest 
citizen, the popular tone must have been misrepre- 
sented by many who claim to act as its chosen 
interpreters — a supposition Mr. Punch must de- 
cline to entertain for a sing^le moment. 



IV. — THE IDYLLIC. 

The following ballad will not be found above 
the heads of an average audience, while it is con- 
structed to suit the capacities of almost any lady 

artiste. 

SO SHY! 

The singer should^ if possible^ he of mature age^ and 
inclined to a comfortable embonpoint. As soon as 
the hell has given the signal for the orchestra to 
attack the prelude^ she will step upon the stage with 
that air of being hung on wires ^ which seems to 
come from a consciousness of being a favorite of the 
public. 

I'm a dynety little dysy of the dingle, 

[Self-praise is a great recommendation — in Music- 
hall songs. 
So retiring and so timid and so coy. 

If you ask me why so long I have lived single, 
I will tell you — 'tis because I am so shoy. 

[Note the manner in which the rhyme is adapted 
to meet Arcadian peculiarities of pronuncia- 
tion. 

39 



40 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

Spoken. — Yes, I am — really, though you 
wouldn't think it to look at me, would you ? 
But, for all that, — 

Chorus. 

When I'm spoken to, I wriggle, 

Going off into a giggle. 

And as red as any peony I blush ; 
Then turn paler than a lily. 
For I'm such a little silly. 

That I'm always in a flutter or a flush! 

\_After each chorus an elaborate step^ dance, expres- 
sive of shrinking maidenly modesty. 

I've a cottage far away from other houses. 
Which the nybours hardly ever come anoigh ; 

When they do, I run and hoide among the rouses, 
For I cannot cure myself of being shoy. 

Spoken. — A great girl like me, too ! But there, 
it's no use trying, for — 

Chorus. — When I'm spoken to, I wriggle, etc. 

Well, the other day I felt my fice was crimson. 
Though I stood and fixed my gyze upon the 
skoy. 

For at the gyte was sorcy Chorley Simpson, 

And the sight of him's enough to turn me shoy. 



THE IDYLLIC. 41 

S'pohen. — It's singular, but Chorley always 'as 
that effect on me. 

Chorus. — When he speaks to me, I wriggle, etc. 

Then said Chorley : " My pursuit there's no 
evyding. 
"Now I've caught you, I insist on a reploy. 
Do you love me ? Tell me truly, little myding I " 
But how is a girl to answer when she's shoy ? 
Spoken. — For even if the conversation happens 
to be about nothing particular, it's just the same 
to me. 

Chorus. — When I'm spoken to, I wriggle, etc. 

There we stood among the loilac and syringas. 
More sweet than any Ess. Bouquet you boy ; 

{^Arcadian for " huy.''^ 

And Chorley kept on squeezing of my fingers, 
And I couldn't tell him not to, being shoy. . 

Spoken. — - For, as I told you before, — 

Chorus. — When I'm spoken to, I wriggle, etc. 

Soon my slender wyste he ventured on embrycing. 

While I only heaved a gentle little soy ; 

Though a scream I would have liked to rise my 

vice in, 
It's so difficult to scream when you are shoy ! 



42 MB. PUXCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

Spoken. — People have sueli different ways of 
listening to proposals. As for me, — 

Chorus. — When they talk of love, I wrio-o-le, etc. 

So verv soon to Chnrcli we shall be or-owino-. 
While the bells ring ont a merrv peal of jy. 

If obedience you do not hear me vowing. 
It will only be because I am so shy. 

[ We have brought the rhyme off legitimately at last, 
it irill he observed. 

S])oJcen. — Yes, and when I'm passing down the 
oil, on Ohorley's arm, with everybody looking at 
me, — 

Chorus. 

1 am certain I shall wrio-ole. 

And go oft' into a giggle. 
And as red as any peony I'll blush. 

Going through the marriage service 

Will be sttre to mike me nervous, 

[A^ofg the freedom of the rhyme. 
And to put me in a flutter and a flush ! 



v.— THE AMATORY EPISODIC. 

The liistoiy of a singer's latest love — whether 
fortunate or otherwise — will always command the 
interest and attention of a Music-hall audience. 
Our example, which is founded upon the very 
best precedents, derives an additional piquancy 
from the social position of the beloved object. 
Cultivated readers are requested not to shudder 
at the rhymes. Mr. PuncJis Poet does them delib- 
erately and in cold blood, being convinced that 
without these somewhat daring concords no ddtty 
would have the slightest chance of satisfying the 
great ear of the Music-hall public. 

The title of the song is : — 

MASHED BY A MARCHIONESS. 

The singer should come on correctly and tastefully 
attired in a S2iit of loud dittoes, a startling tie, and 
a ivhite hat — the orthodox costume (on the Music- 
hall stage') of a middle class sivain suffering from 
love-sickness. The air shoidd he of the conven- 
tional jog-trot and jingle order, chastened hy a 
sentimental melancholy. 

I've lately gone and lost my 'art — and where 

you'll never guess — 
I'm regularly mashed upon a lovely Marchioness ! 

43 



44 MB. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

'Twas at a Fancy Fair we met, inside the Albert 

'All; 

So affable slie smiled at me as I came near her 

stall ! 

CI10TU8. 

Don't tell me Belgravia is stiff in behavior ! 

She'd an Uncle an Earl, and a Dook for her Pa — 
Still there was no starchiness in that fair Mar- 
chioness, 
As she stood at her stall in the Fancy Bazaar ! 

At titles and distinctions once I'd ignorantly scoff, 
As if no bond could be betwixt the tradesman and 

the toff ! 
I held with those who'd do away with difference 

in ranks — 
But that was all before I met the Marchioness of 

Manx! 

Chorus. — Don't tell me Belgravia, etc. 

A home was being started by some kind aristo-crats. 
For orphan kittens, born of jDoor, but wxll-con- 

nected cats ; 
And of the swells who planned a Fete this object 

to assist, 
The Marchioness of Manx's name stood foremost 

on the list. 

Chorus. — Don't tell me Belgravia, etc. 



THE AMATORY EPISODIC. 45 

I never saw a smarter hand at serving in a shop, 
For every likely customer she caught upon the 'op ! 
And from the form her ladyship displayed at that 
Bazaar, 

(With enthusiasm) — You might have took your 
oath she'd been brought up behind a bar ! 

Chorus. — Don't tell me Belgravia, etc. 

In vain I tried to kid her that my purse had been 

forgot, 
She spotted me in 'alf a jiff, and chaffed me 

precious hot ! 
A sov. for one regaliar she gammoned me to spend. 
" You. really can't refuse," she said, "I've bitten 

off the end ! " 

Chorus. — Don't tell me Belgravia, etc. 

*' Do buy my crewel-work," she urged, " it goes 

across a chair, 
You'll find it come in useful, as I see you 'ile your 

'air!" 
So I 'anded over thirty bob, though not a coiny 

bloke. 
I couldn't tell a Marchioness how nearly I was 

broke ! 



46 ' MB. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

Spoken. — Though I did take the liberty of say- 
ing, " Make it fifteen bob, my lacly ! " But she 
said, with such a fascinating look — I can see it 
yet ! — " Oh, I'm sure yoii^TQ not a 'aggling kind 
of a man," she says, " you haven't the face for it. 
And think of all them pore fatherless kittings," 
she says ; " think what thirty bob means to them ! " 
says she, glancing up so pitiful and tender under 
her long eyelashes at me. Ah, the Radicals may 
talk as they like^ but — 

Chorus. — Don't tell me Belgravia, etc. 

A raffle was the next concern I put my rhino in : 
The prize a talking parrot, which I didn't want to 

win. 
Then her sister. Lady Tabby, showed a painted 

milking-stool, 
And I bought it — though it's not a thing I sit on 

as a rule. 

Spoken. — Not but what it was a handsome article 
in its way, too, — had a snow-scene with a sunset 
done in oil on it. " It will look lovely in your 
chambers," says the Marchioness ; "it was ever so 
much admired at Catterwall Castle I " It didn't 
look so bad in my three-pair back, I must say, 



THE AMATORY EPISODIC. 47 

though unfortunately the sunset came off on me 
the very first time I Iiappened to set down on it. 
Still, think of the condescension of painting such 
a thing at all ! 

Chorus. — Don't tell me Belgravia, etc. 

The Marquis kept a-fidgeting and frowning at his 
wife, 

For she talked to me as free as if she'd known me 
all my life ! 

I felt that I was in the swim, so wasn't over- 
awed. 

But 'ung about and spent my cash as lavish as a 
lord ! 

Spoken. — It was worth all the money, I can tell 
you, to be chatting there across the counter with a 
real live Marchioness for as long as ever my funds 
would 'old out. They'd have held out much 
longer, only the Marchioness made it a rule never 
to give change — she couldn't break it she 
said, not even for me. I wish I could give you 
an idea of how she smiled as she made that 
remark ; for the fact is, when an aristocrat does 
unbend — well, — 

Chorus. — Don't tell me Belgravia, etc. 



48 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

Next time I meet the Marchioness a-riding in the 

Row, 
I'll ketch her eye and raise my 'at, and up to her 

I'll go, 
( With sentiment} — And tell her next my 'art I 

keep the stump of that cigar 
She sold me on the 'appy day Ave 'ad at her Bazaar! 

Spohen. — And she'll be pleased to see me again, 
/know! She's not one of your stuck-up sort; 
don't you make no mistake about it, the aristoc- 
racy ain't 'alf as bloated as people imagine who 
don't know 'em. Whenever I hear parties running 
'em down, I always say, — 

Chorus. 
Don't teil me Belgravia is stiff in behavior, etc. 



VL — THE CHIVALROUS. 

The singer (who should he a large man, in evening 
dress^ ivith a criimpled shirt-front) luill come on 
the stage with a hearing intended to convey at first 
sight that he is a devoted admirer of the fair sex. 
After removing his crush-hat in an easy manner^ 
and ivinking airily at the orchestra^ he will 
begin : — 

V7HY SHOULDN'T THE DARLINGS? 

There's enthusiasm brimming in the breasts of 
all the women, 
And they're calling for enfranchisement with 
clamor eloquent : 
When some parties in a huff rage at the plea for 
Female Suffrage, 
I invariably floor them with a simple argu-ment. 

Chorus (to he rendered with a winning 'persuasive- 
ness). 

Why shouldn't the darlings have votes ? de-ar 

things ! 
On politics each of 'em dotes, de-ar things ! 

49 



50 3IE. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

(^Pathetically.') Oh it it does seem so hard 

They should all be debarred, 
'Cause they happen to wear petticoats, de-ar 
things ! 

Nature all the hens to crow meant, I could prove 
it in a moment, 
Though they've selfishly been silenced by the 
cockadoodledoos. 
But no man of sense afraid is of enfranchising the 
Ladies. 
(^Magnanimously.) Let 'em put their pretty 

fingers into any pie they choose ! 
Spoken. — For — - ' 

Chorus. — Whj shouldn't the darlings, etc. 

They would cease to care for dresses, if we made 
them electresses, 
No more time they'd spend on needlework, nor 
at pianos strum ; 
Every dainty little Dorcas would be sitting on a 
Caucus, 
Busy wire-pulling to produce the New Millen- 
ni-um I 

Spoken. — Oh ! — 

Chorus. — Why shouldn't the darlings, etc. 



THE CHIVALROUS. 51 

In the House we'll see them sitting soon, it will be 
only fitting, 
They should have an opportunity their coun- 
try's laws to frame. 
And the Ladies' legislation will be sure to cause 
sensation, 
For they'll do away with everything that seems 

to them a shame I 
Spoken. — ■ Then — 

Chorus. — Why shouldnH the darlings, etc. 

They will promptly clap a stopper on whate'er 
they deem improper. 
Put an end to vaccination, landed property, and 
pubs ; 
And they'll fine Tom, Dick, and Harry, if they 
don't look sharp and marry. 
And for Kindergartens confiscate those nasty 
horrid Clubs ! 

Spoken. — Ah ! — 

Chorus. — Why shouldn't the darlings, etc. 

They'll declare it's quite immoral to engage in 
foreign quarrel, 
And that Britons never, never will be warriors 
any more ! 



52 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

When our forces are abolished, and defences all 
demolished, 
They will turn upon the Jingo tack, and want 
to go to war ! 

Spoken. — So — 

Chorus. — Why shouldrit the darlings, etc. 

( With a grieved air.^ Yet there's some who'd close 
such vistars to their poor down-trodden 
sistaTS, 
And persuade 'em, if they're offered votes, 
politely to refuse I 
Say they do not care about 'em, and would rather 
be without 'em — 
Oh, I haven't common patience with such narrer- 
minded views ! 

Spoken. — No ! — • 

Chorus. — Why shouldnH the darlings, etc. 

And it's females — that's the puzzle ! — who peti- 
tion for the muzzle. 
Which I call it poor and paltry, and I think 
you'll say so too. 



THE CHIVALROUS, 53 

They are not in any danger. Let 'em drop the 
dog-in-manger ! 
If they don't require the vote themselves, there's 
other Ladies do ! 

Spoken. — And — 

Chorus. — Why sJiouldn't the darlings, etc. 

[H^ere the singer will gradually retreat backwards to 
the rear of the stage., open Ms crush-hat, and ex- 
tend it in an attitude of triumph as the curtain 
descends. 



VIL— THE FRANKLY CANAILLE. 

Any ditty which accurately reflects the habits 
and amusements of the people is a valuable human 
document — a fact that probably accounts for the 
welcome which songs in the following style inva- 
riably receive from Music-hall audiences generally. 
If — Mr. Pukch presumes — they conceived such 
pictures of their manner of spending a holiday to 
be unjustly or incorrectly drawn in any way, they 
would protest strongly against being so grossly 
misrepresented. As they do nothing of the sort, 
no apology can be needed for the following effu- 
sion, which several ladies now adorning the Music- 
hall stage could be trusted to render with immense 
effect. The singer should be young and charm- 
ing, and attired as simply as possible. Sim- 
plicity of attire imparts additional piquancy to 
the words : — 

THE POOR OLD 'ORSB. 

We 'ad a little outing larst Sunday arternoon ; 
And sech a jolly lark it was, I sha'n't forge.t it 
soon ! 

54 



THE FRANKLY CANAILLE. 55 

We borrerecl an excursion van to take us down to 

Kew, 
And — oh, we did enjoy ourselves ! I don't mind 

telling you. 

\^This to the Chef d^ Orchestre-, who luill assume a 
polite interest. 

[^Here a little spoken interlude is customary. Mr. P. 
does not venture to do more than indicate this hy a 
synopsis^ the details can he filled in according to 
the taste and fancy of the fair artiste: — " Yes^ 
we did 'ave a time., I can assure yer.'' The party : 
" Me and Jimmy 'Opkins ; " old " Pa Plapper." 
Ashed because he lent the van. The meanness 
of his subsequent conduct. " Aunt Snapper ; " 
her imposing appearance in her " cawfy-colored 
frontr Bill Blazer; his '^ girl.,'' and his accord- 
ion. Mrs. Addick (of the fried fish emporium 
around the corner') ; her gentility — ^^ Never seen 
out of her mittens., and alivays the lady, no matter 
how much she may have taken."" From this ivork 
round by an easy transition to — 

The Chorus. 

For we 'ad to stop 'o course, 
Jest to bait the bloomin' 'orse. 



56 MB. PUNCH'S 3fODEL MUSIC HALL. 

So we'd pots of ale and porter 
(Or a drop o' something shorter), 
While he drunk his pail o' water, 
He was sech a whale on water ! 
That more water than he oughter, 
More water than he oughter, 

'Ad the old 'orse ! 

Second Stanza. 

That 'orse he was a rum 'un — a queer old quad- 
ru-ped, 

At every public-'ouse he passed he'd cock his art- 
ful 'ed ! 

Sez I, " If he goes on like this, we sha'n't see 
Kew to-night ! " 

Jim 'Opkins winks his eye, and sez, "We'll git 
along all right ! " 

Chorus. — Though we 'ave to stop o' course, etc. 
[ With slight textual modifications. 

Third Stanza. • 

At Kinsington we 'alted, 'Amm'ersmith, and Turn- 
ham Green, 

The 'orse 'ad sech a thust on him, its like was 
never seen ! 



THE FRANKLY CANAILLE. 57 

With every 'arf a mile or so, that animal got 

blown : 
And we was far too well bronght-up to let 'im 

drink alone ! 
Chorus. — As we 'ad to stop, o' course, etc. 

Fourth Stanza. 
We stopped again at Chiswick, till at last we got 

to Kew, 
But when we reached the Gardings — well, there 

was a fine to-do ! 
The Keeper, in his gold-laced tile, was shutting-to 

the gate, 
Sez he, "There's no admittance now — you're just 

arrived too late I " 
[Synopsis of spohen interlude : Sp>irited passage-al- 
arms between Mr. Wm. Blazer and the Keeper; 
singular action of Pa Flapper ; " Iiuant to see yer 
Pagoder — bring out yer old Pagoder as you re so 
proud on!''' Mrs. Addick's disappointment at 
not being able to see the " Irdemperate Plants^' 
and the " Pitcher Shrub^' once more. Her subsi- 
dence in tears^ on the floor of the van. Keeper 
concludes the dialogue by inquiring ivhy the party 
did not arrive sooner. An tve sez., " Well, it was 
like this, ole cock robin — d'yer see ?" 

Chorus. — We've 'ad to stop, o' course, etc. 



58 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

Fifth Stanza. 
" Don't fret," I sez, " about it, for they ain't got 

much to see 
Inside their precious Gardings — so let's go and 

'ave some tea ! 
A cup I seem to fancy now — I feel that faint and 

limp — 
With a slice of bread-and-butter, and some creases, 

and a s'rimp ! " 
\_Description of the tea : — " And the scrimps — ivell, 
I don't want to say anything against the s'rimps 
— hut it did strike me they were feelin^ the ''eat a 
little — scrimps are liable to it^ and you can'' t pre- 
vent 'em." After tea. The only tune Mr. Blazer 
could play on his accordion. Tragic end of that 
instrument. How the party had a " little more 
lush.''"' Scandalous behavior of " Bill Blazer's 
girl.^'' The company consume luhat will be ele- 
gantly referred to as "a bit o' booze.'''' Aunt 
Snapper '•^ gets the ^ump.'' The outrage to her 
front. The proposal to start -^ tv hereupon., " Mrs. 
Addick, who was a-sett'in^ on the geraniums in the 
winder^ smilin' at her boots., tvhich she''d just took 
. off because she said they stojjped her hreathing^^'' 
protested that there was no hurry., considering that — 
Chorus., as before. — We've got to stop, o' course, etc. 



THE FRANKLY CANAILLE. 59 

Sixth Stanza. 

But when the van was ordered, we found — what 
do yer think ? 

\^To the Chef d'Orchestre, luho luill affect Gomflete 
ignorance. 

That miserable 'orse 'ad been an' took too much to 

drink ! 
He kep' a-reeling round us, like a circus worked 

by steam. 
And, 'stead o' keeping singular, he'd turned into a 

team ! 

\_Dis(/ust of the parti/ : Pa Flapper proposes to go 
hack to the inn for more refreshment^ urging — 

Chorus. 

We must wait awhile o' course, 
Till they've sobered down the 'orse. 
Just another pot o' porter, 
. Or a drop o' something shorter, 
While our good landlady's daughter 
Takes him out some soda-warter. 
For he's 'ad more than he oughter. 
He's 'ad more than he oughter, 

'As the poor old 'orse ! 



60 MB. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

Seventh Stanza. 

So, when tliey brought the 'orse round, we started 

on our way : 
'Twas 'orful 'ow the animal from side to side would 

sway ! 
Young 'Opkins took the reins, but soon in slumber 

he was sunk — 

(Indignantly .~) When a interfering Copper ran us 
in for being drunk ! 

[^Attitude of various members of the party. Tin- 
warrantable proceeding on the part of the Con- 
stable. Remonstrajiee hy Pa Flapper and the 
company generally in — 

Chorus, 

Why, can't yer shee ? o' coursh 
Tishn't us — it ish the 'orsh ! 
He's a whale at swilling water, ^ 

We've 'ad onl}^ ale and porter, 
Or a drop o' something shorter, 
You le'mme go, you shnorter ! 
Don' you tush me till you oughter ! 
Jus' look 'ere — - to cut it shorter — 

Take the poor old 'orsh ! 



THE FRANKLY CANAILLE. 61 

[ General adjournment to the Police-station. Inter- 
view with tlie Magistrate on the following morning. 
Mr. Hopkins called upon to state his defence^ 
replies in — 

Chorus. 

Why, your wushup sees, o' course, 
It was all the bloomin' 'orse ! 
He ivould 'ave a pail 'o water 
Every 'arf a mile (or quarter), 
Which is what he didn't oughter ! 
He shall stick to ale or porter, 
With a drop o' something shorter, 
I'm my family's supporter — 

Fine the poor old 'orse ! 

^The Magistrate's view of the case. Concluding re- 
mark that, notwithstanding the success of the ex- 
cursion., as a luhole — it will he some time before 
the singer consents to go upon any excursion with 
a horse of such bibulous tendencies as those of the 
quadruped they drove to Kew. 



VIII. — THE DRAMATIC SCENA. 

This is always a popular form of entertainment, 
demanding, as it does, even more dramatic than 
vocal ability on the part of the artist. A song of 
this kind is nothing if not severely moral, and 
frequently depicts the downward career of an 
incipient drunkard with all the lurid logic of a 
Temperance Tract. Mr. Punchy however, is in- 
clined to think that the lesson would be even 
more appreciated and taken to heart by the 
audience, if a slightly different line were adopted, 
such as he has endeavored to indicate in the follow- 
ing example : — 

THE DANGER OF MIXED DRINKS. 

The singer sJiouId have a great command of facial 
expression^ which he will find greatly facilitated 
hy employing (^as indeed is the usual custom) col- 
ored limelight at the ivings. 

First Verse (to he sung under pure white light). 

He (these auful examples are usually^ and quite 
properly., anonymous) was once as nice a fellow 
as you could desire to meet, 

62 



THE DRAMATIC SCENA. 63 

Partial to a pint of porter, always took his spirits 

neat ; 
Long ago a careful mother's cautions trained her 

son to shrink 
From the meretricious sparkle of an aerated drink. 

Refrain (^slioiving the virtuous youth resisting temp- 
tation. N. B. The refrain is intended to be 
spoken through music. Not sung^. 

Here's a pub that's handy. 

Liquor up with you ? 
Thimbleful of brandy? 

Don't mind if I do. 
Soda-water? No, sir. 

Never touch the stuff. 
Promised mother — so, sir. 

( With an upward glance.^ 

'Tisn't good enough ! 

Second Verse. (^Primrose light for this.^ 
Ah, how little we suspected, as we saw him in his 

bloom. 
What a demon dogged his footsteps, luring to an 

awful doom ! 
Vain his mother's fond monitions ; soon a friend, 

with fiendish laugh, 
Tempts him to a quiet tea-garden, plies him there 

with shandy-gaff ! 



64 3IR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

Refrain (illustrating the first false step^. 
Why, it's just the mixture 

I so long have sought ! 
Here I'll be a fixture 

Till I've drunk the quart ! 
Just the stuff to suit yer. 

Waiter, do you hear? 
Make it, for the future, 

Three parts ginger-beer ! 

Third Verse (requiring violet-tinted slide). 
By-and-by, the ale discarding, ginger-beer he craves 

alone. 
Undiluted he procures it, buys it bottled up in 

stone. 

(The earthenware bottles are said by connoisseurs to 
contain liquor of superior strength and quality.) 

From his lips the foam he brushes — crimson over- 
spreads his brow. 

To his brain the ginger's mounting ! Could his 
mother see him now ! 

Refrain (depicting the horrors of a solitary debauch 
poisoned by reraorse). 

Shall I have another ? 
Only ginger-pop ! 



THE DRAMATIC SCENA. 65 

(^Wildly.) Ah! I promised mother 

Not to touch a drop ! 
Far too much I'm tempted. 

(^Recklessly .^ Let me drink my fill ! 
That's the fifth I've emptied — 

Oh, I feel so ill ! 
[Here the singer ivill stagger about the hoards. 

Fourth Verse. {Turn on lurid crimson ray for 

this.) 

Next with drinks they style '' teetotal" he his 

manhood must degrade ; 
Swilling effervescent sirups — " ice-cream soda," 

" raspberrj-ade," 
Koumiss tempts his jaded palate — ^^ayment he's 

obliged to bilk — 
Then, reduced to destitution, finds forgetfulness 

in — milk ! 

He/rain (^indicating rapid moral deterioration). 
What's that on the railings ? 

\^Point dramatically at imaginary area. 
Milk — and in a can ! 
Thoug-h I have mv failino-s, 
I'm an honest man. 

\_Sparlc of expiring rectitude here. 



66 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

I ca>ii7iot resist it. 

[Pantomime of opening can. 
That celestial blue ! 
Has the milkman missed it ? 

\_Melo dramatically, 
J 11 be missing too ! 

Fifth Verse (in 2^ ale blue light). 
Milk begets a taste for water, so comparatively 

cheap, 
Every casual pump supplies him, gratis, with 

potations deep ; 
He at every drinking-fountain pounces on the 

pewter cup. 
Conscious of becoming bloated, powerless to give 

it up ! 

Refrain (illustrative of utter loss of self-respect'), 

" Find one straight before me ? " 

Bobby, you're a trump ! 
Faintness stealing o'er me — 

Ha — at last — a pump ! 
If that little maid '11 

Just make room for one, 
I could grab the ladle 

After she has done. 



THE DRAMATIC SCENA. Q7 

The last verse is the culminating point of this moral 
drama: The miserable wretch has reached the 
last stage. He shuts himself up in his cheerless 
abode, and there, in shameful secrecy, consumes 
the element for ivhich he is powerless to pay — the 

. inevitable Nemesis following. 

Sixth Verse (all lights down in front. Ghastly 

green light at wings). 
Up his sordid stairs in secret to the cistern now he 

steals, 
Where, amidst organic matter, gambol microscopic 

eels ; 
Tremblingly he turns the tap on — not a trickle 

greets the trougli ! 
For the stony-hearted turncock's gone and cut his 

water off ! 

Refrain (in which the profligate is supposed to de- 
mand an explanation from the turncock, with a 
terrible denoilment). 

" Rate a quarter owing, 

Comp'ny stopped supply." 

" Set the stream a-flowing, 
Demon — or you die ! " 

" Mercy ! — ah ! you've choked me I " 

[Z^i hoarse, stra^igled voice as the turncock. 



68 ME. pimcn's model music ball. 

" Will you turn the plug ? " 

[^Savagely as the hero. 
''No ! [Faintly ., as turncock. 

[^Business of flinging a corpse on stage, and regard- 
ing it terror-stricken. A long pause : then., in a 
whisper^ — 

" The fool provoked me I 

( With a maniac laugh.^ Horror I I'm a Thug ! " 

[Here the artist ivill die., mad, in frightful agony., and 
rise to how his acknowledgments. 



IX. — THE DUETTISTS. 

The " Duet and Dance " form so important a 
feature in Music-hall entertainments, that they 
could hardly, with any propriety, be neglected in 
a model compilation such as Mr. Punch's^ and it is 
possible that he may offer more than one example 
of this blameless diversion. For some reason or 
other, the habit of singing in pairs would seem to 
induce a pessimistic tone of mind in most Music- 
hall artistes^ and — why, Mr. Punch does not pre- 
tend to say — this cynicism is always more marked 
when the performers are of the softer sex. Our 
present study is intended to fulfil the requirements 
of the most confirmed female sceptic, and, though 
the Message of the Music Halls may have been 
given worthier and fuller expression by pens more 
practised in such compositions, Mr. Punch is still 
modestly confident that this ditty, with all its 
shortcomings, can be sung in any Music Hall in 
the Metropolis without exciting an}^ sentiment 
other than entire approval of the teaching it con- 
veys. One drawback, indeed, it has, but that con- 
cerns the performers alone. For the sake of 
affording contrast and relief, it was thought ex- 

69 



70 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

peclient that one of the fair duettists should pro- 
fess an optimism which may — perhaps must — • 
tend to impair her popularity. A conscientious 
ai'tiste may legitimately object, for the sake of her 
professional reputation, to present herself in so 
humiliating a character as that of an ingenue^ and 
a female " Juggins ; " and it does seem as if the 
Cynical Sister must inevitably monopolize the 
sympathies of an enlightened audience. How- 
ever, this difficulty is less formidable than it ap- 
pears ; it should be easy for the Unsophisticated 
Sister to convey a subtle suggestion here and 
there, possibly in the incidental dance between the 
verses, that she is not really inferior to her 
partner in smartness and knowledge of the world. 
But perhaps it would be the fairest arrangement 
if the Sisters could agree to alternate so ungrate- 
ful a role. 

RHINO ! 

First Verse. ■ 

First Sistek (^placing three of the fingers of her 
left hand on her heart., and extending her right 
arm in timid appeal) . 

Deah sister, of late I'm beginning to doubt 

If the world is as black as they paint it. 
It mayn't be as bad as some try to make out — 



THE DUETTISTS, 71 

Second Sister (with an elaborate mock courtesy^ » 

That is a discovery ! Mayn't it? 
FiEST S. (abashed'). I'm sure there are sev'ral 
who aren't a bad lot. 

And some sort of principle seem to have got, 

For they act on the square — 
Second S. Don't you talk tommy-rot ! 

It's done for advertisement, ainH it? 

Refrain, 

Second S. Why, there's nobody at bottom any 

better than the rest ! 
First S. Are you sure of it? 
Second S. I'm telling you, and /know, 

The principle they act upon's whatever pays 'em 

best. 
And the only real religion now is — Rhino ! 

[The last word must be rendered with full metallic 
effect. A step-dance^ expressive of conviction on 
one part^ and incipient wavering on the other^ 
should be performed between the verses. 

Second Verse. 

First S. (returni7iy, shaken, to the charge). Some 
unmsLTTied men lead respectable lives. 

Second S. (decisively). Well, I've never hap- 
pened to meet them! 



72 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

First S. There are husbands who're always 

polite to their wives. 
Second S. Of course — if their better halves 

beat them ! 
First S. Some tradesmen have consciences, so 

I've heard said ; 
Their provisions are never adulterated, 
But they treat all their customers fairly instead. 
Second S. 'Cause they don't find it answer to 

cheat them ! 

Refrain. 
Firsts. (What? 
Second S. [ No, — They're none of 'em at bottom 

any better than the rest. 
Second S. I'm speaking from experience, and / 

know. 
If you could put a window-pane in everybody's 

breast 
You'd see on all the hearts was written — " Rhino ! " 

Third Verse. 

First S. There are girls you can't tempt with a 

title or gold. 
Seconds. There may be — but I've never seen 

one. 



THE DUETTISTS. 73 

First S. Some much prefer love in a cottage, 

I'm told. 
Second S. Qputti7ig her arms a-kimbo). If you 

swallow tliat^ you're a green one ! 
They'll stick to their lover so long as he's cash, 
When it's gone, they look out for a wealthier 

mash. 
A girl on the gush talks unpractical trash — 
When it comes to the point, she's a keen one ! 

Refrain. 

FiEST S. Then are none of us at bottom any 

better than the rest? 
Second S. {cheerfully). Not a bit ; I am. a girl 

myself, and /know. 
First S. You'd surely never give your hand to 

some one you detest ? 
Second S. Why rather — if he's rolling in the 

Rhino ! 

Fourth Verse. 

First S. Philanthropists give up their lives to 

the poor. 
Second S. It's chiefly with tracts they present 

them. 
First S. Still, some self-denial I'm sure the}^ 

endure ? 



74 MR. ruNCirs model music hall. 

* 

Secoisd S. It's their hobby, and seems to content 
them. 

First S. lUit don't tlioy go into tliosc, ]iorribl(3 
shims ? 

Second S. SonHU-'nncs — with a flourish of trum- 
pets and (h'ums. 

First S. Fvc licard tlicy'vo coUocted magnificent 
sums. 

Second S. And nobody knows how they've S2)ent 
them ! 

llcfrain. 
Second S. Oh, tlicy'ro none of 'em at bottom 
any better than the ri^st ! 
Tlu^y are oidy bigger liypoerites, as / know; 
Tlu^yVe famous 0])portunities for feathering their 
nest, 
Wlien so many fools are ready witli the Rhino! 

Fifth Verse. 

First S. Our Statesmen are prompted by duty 

alone. 
Second S. (^aompassionatel/j). Whoever's been 

gammoning i/ou so? 
First S. They wouldn't seek office for ends of 

their own ? 
Second S. What else would induce 'em to do so? 



THE DUETT I ST S. 75 

First S. liut Tiiuc, llciilUi, and Money ihay all 

.saci'ificc. 
Second S. J'd do it myself ai a (|uai'U;r tlic; prieo. 

There's pickings for all, and Lluiy needn't ask 
twiee, 
For they're al)le to put on the s(;rew so ! 

Refrain (together^. 
No, they're none of 'em at bottom any better than 
the rest! 
They may kid to their eonstituents" — but I 
know ; 
Whatever lofty sentiments their speeches may 
suggest, 
They regulate their actions by the Rhino ! 

\^IIere the pair will perform a final step-dance, vn- 
dicative of efdif/htened scepticism, and skip off' in 
an effusion of sisterly sympatliy, amuhi entku- 
siastic applause. 



X. — DISINTERESTED PASSION. 

When a Music-hall singer does not treat of the 
tender passion in a rakish and knowing spirit, he 
is apt to exhibit an unworldliness truly ideal in its 
noble indifference to all social distinctions. So 
amiable a tendency deserves encouragement, and 
Mr. Punch has much pleasure in offering the fol- 
lowing little idyl to the notice of any Mammoth 
Comique who may happen to be in a sentimental 
mood. It is supposed to be sung by a scion of 
the nobility, and the artiste will accordingly pre- 
sent himself in a brown " billy-cock " hat, a 
long gray frock-coat, fawn-colored trousers, white 
"spats," and primrose, or green gloves — the 
recognized attire of a Music-hall aristocrat. A 
powerful — though not necessarily tuneful — 
voice is desirable for the adequate rendering of 
this ditty: any w^ords it is inconvenient to sing, 
can always be spoken. 



DISINTERESTED PASSION. " 77 

ONLY A LITTLE PLEBEIAN ! 

First Verse. 
When first I met my Mary Ann, she stood behind 
a barrow — 
A bower of enchantment spread witli many a 
dainty snack ! 
And, as I gazed, I felt my heart transfixed witli 
Cupid's arrow. 

For she opened all her oysters with so- fairylike 
a knack. 

Refrain (throaty.^ hut tender). 
She's only a little Plebeian ! 

And I'm a Patrician swell ! 
But she's as sweet as Aurora, and how I adore her, 

No eloquence ever can tell ! 
Only a fried-fish vend-ar ! 

Selling her saucers of whilks, 

[Almost defiant stress on the icord " ivhilks.^^ 

But, for me, she's as slend-ar — far more true and 
tend-ar, 
Than if she wore satins and silks ! 

[ The grammar of the last tivo lines is shaky ^ hut the 
Lion-Comique must try to put up ivith that., and., 



78 ME. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

after all, does sincere emotion ever stop to think 
about grammar f If it does, Music-hall audiences 
dont — which is the main point. 

Second Verse. 

I longed before her little feet to grovel in the 
gutter ; 
I vowed, unless I won her as a wife, 'twould 
drive me mad ! 

Until at last a shy consent I coaxed her lips to 
utter, 

For she dallied with her Anglo-Dutch, and whis- 
pered, " Speak to Dad ! " 

Refrain. — For she's only a little Plebeian, etc. 

Third Verse. 

I called upon her sire, and found him lowly born, 

but brawny, 
A noble type, when sober, of the British artisan ; 
I grasped his honest hand, and didn't mind its 

being horny : 
"Behold!" I cried, "a suitor for your daughter, 

Mary Ann ! " ■ . 

Refrain. — Though she's only a little Plebeian, etc. 



DISINTERESTED PASSION. 79 

Fourth Verse. 

"You ask me, gov'nor, to resign," said he, "my 

only treasure, 
And so a toff her fickle heart away from me has 

won ! " 
He turned to mask his manly woe behind a pewter 

measure — 
Then, breathing blessings through the beer, he 

said, " All right, my son ! 

Refrain. — If she's only a little Plebeian, 

And you're a Patrician swell," etc. 

Fifth Verse. 

{The author flatters himself that, in quiet sentiment 
and homely pathos he has seldom done anything 
finer than the two succeeding stanzas.} 

Next I sought my noble father in his old ancestral 
castle. 
And at his gouty foot my love's fond offering 
I laid — 
A simple gift of shellfish, in a neat brown-paper 
parcel ! 
"Ah, Sir!" I cried, "If you could know, you'd 
love m}^ little maid! " 

Refrain. — True, she's only a little Plebeian, etc. 



80 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

Sixth Verse. 
Beneath his shaggy eyebrows soon I saw a tear- 
drop twinkle ; 
That artless present overcame his stubborn Nor- 
man pride ! 
And when I made him taste a whilk, and try a 
periwinkle, 
His last objection vanished — so she's soon to be 
my bride ! 
Refrain. — Ah ! she's only a little Plebeian, etc. 

Seventh Verse. 
Now heraldry's a science that I haven't studied 
much in. 
But I mean to ask the College — if it's not 
against their rules — 
That three periwinkles proper may be quartered 

on our 'scutcheon. 
With a whilk regardant, rampant, on an oyster- 
knife, all gules ! 
Refrain. — As she's only a little Plebeian, etc. 
This little ditty, which has the true unmistak- 
able ring about it, and will, Mr. Punch believes, 
touch the hearts of any Music-hall audience, is 
entirely at the service of any talented artiste who 
will undertake to fit it with an appropriate melody, 
and sing it in a spirit of becoming seriousness. 



XL — THE PANEGYRIC PATTER. 

This ditty is designed to give some expression 
to the passionate enthusiasm for nature which is 
occasionally observable in the Music-hall song- 
stress. The young lady who sings these verses 
will of course appear in appropriate costume ; viz., 
a large white hat and feathers, a crimson sun- 
shade, a pink frock, high-heeled sand-shoes, and a 
liberal extent of black silk stockings. A phonetic 
spelling has been adopted where necessar}^ to 
bring out the rhyme, for the convenience of the 
reader only, as the singer will instinctively give 
the vowel-sounds the pronunciation intended by 
the author. 

THE JOYS OP THE SEA-SIDE. 

First Verse. 

Oh, I love to sit a-gyzing on the boundless blue 
horizing, 
When the scorching sun is blyzing down on 
sands, and ships, and sea ! 
81 



82 MB. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

And to watch the busy figgers of the happy little 
diggers, 
Or to listen to the niggers when they choose to 
come to me ! 

Chorus (to which the singer should sway in waltz- 
time^. 

For I'm offully fond of the /S'ea-side ! 

If I'd only my w'y, I would c?e-cide 
To dwell evermore, 
By the murmuring shore, 

With the billows a-blustering ^e-side ! 

Second Verse. 

Then how pleasant of a morning, to be up before 

the doming ! 
And to sally forth a-prorning — e'en if nothing 

back you bring ! 

Some young men who like fatigue '11 go and try 
to pot a sea-gull, 
What's the odds if it's illegal, or the bird they 
only wing? 

Chorus. — For it's one of the sports of the Sea- 
side ! etc. 



THE PANEGYRIC PATTER. 83 

Tidrd Verse. 

Then what j'y to go a bything — though you'll 
swim, if you're a sly thing, 
Like a mermaid nimbly writhing, with a foot 
upon the sand ! 
When you're tired of old Poseidon, there's the 
pier to promenide on, 
Strauss, and Sullivan, and Haydn form the pro- 
gramme of the band. 

Chorus. — ¥01 there's always a band at the Sea- 
side ! etc. 

Fourth Verse. 

And, with boatmen so beguiling, sev'ral parties go 
out siling ! 
Sitting all together smiling, handing sandwiches 
about, 

To the sound of concertiner, — till they're gradu- 
ally greener, 

And they wish the ham was leaner, as they sip 
their bottled stout. 

Chorus. — And they cry, " Put us back on the Sea- 
side ! " etc. 



84 ME. PUNCH'S MODEL 2IUSIC HALL. 

Fifth Verse, 

There is pleasure unalloyed in hiring hacks and 
going roiding I 
(If you stick on tight, avoiding any cropper or 
mishap,) 
Or about the rocks you ramble : over bowlders slip 
and scramble ; 
Or sit down and do a gamble, playing '' Loo " or 
" Penny Nap." 

Chorus. — " Penny Nap " is the gyme for the Sea- 
side I etc. 



Sixth Verse. 
Then it's lovely to be spewning, all the glamour of 

the mewn in. 
With your love his banjo tewning, ere flirtation 

can begin ! 
As along the sands you're strowling, till the hour 
of ten is towling. 
And your ma, severely scowling, asks '' Wher- 
ever yon have bin ! " 

Chorus. — Then you answer " I've been by the /Sea- 
side ! " etc. 



THE PANEGYRIC PATTER. 85 

Seventh Verse. 

Should the sky be dark and frowning, and the 
restless winds be mowning. 
With the breakers' thunder drowning all the 
laughter and the glee ; 
And the day should prove a drencher, out of doors 
you will not ventcher, 
But you'll read the volumes lent yer by the 
Local Libraree ! 

Chorus. — For there's sure to be one at the Sea- 
side ! etc. 

Eighth Verse. 

If the weather gets no calmer, you can patronize 
the dramer. 
Where the leading lady charmer is a chit of 
forty -four ! 
And a duty none would shirk is to attend the 
strolling circus, 
For they'd all be in the workhouse, should their 
antics cease to dror ! 

Chorus. — And they're part of the joys of the Sea- 
side ! etc. 



86 2IR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

Encore Verse (to he used only in case of emergency^. 

Well, I reelly must be gowing — Fve just time to 
make my bow in — 
But I thank you for allowing me to patter on so 
long. 
And if, like me, you're pining for the breezes 
there's some brine in. 
Why, I'll trouble you to jine in with the chorus 
to my song ! 

Chorus (all together'). — Oh, we're offuUy fond of 
the Sea-^\diQ ! etc. 



XII. — THE PLAINTIVELY PATHETIC. 

A Music-hall audience will always be exceed- 
ingly susceptible to pathos — so long as they 
clearly understand that the song is not intended 
to be of a comic nature. However, there is very 
little danger of any misapprehension in the case 
of our present example, which is as natural and 
affecting a little song as any that have been mov- 
ing the Music-Hails of late. The ultra-fastidious 
may possibly be repelled by what they would 
term the vulgarity of the title, — " The Night-light 
Ever Burning by the Bed " — but, although it is 
true that this humble luminary is now more 
generally called a " Fairy Lamp," persons of true 
taste and refinement will prefer the homely sim- 
plicity of its earlier name. The song only 
contains three verses, which is the regulation 
allowance for Music-hall pathos, the authors prob- 
ably feeling that the audience could not stand any 
more. It should be explained that the " tum-tum " 
at the end of certain lines is not intended to be 
sung — it is merely an indication to the orchestra 

87 



88 3IIt. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

to pinch their violins in a pizzicato manner. The 
singer shouki either come on as a serious black 
man, — for burnt cork is a marvellous provocative 
of pathos, — or as his ordinary self. In either 
case he should wear evening dress, with a large 
brilliant on each hand. 

THE NIGHT-LIGHT EVER BURNING BY 
THE BED. 

First Verse. 
I've been thinking of the home where my early 
years were spent, 
'Neath the care of a kind maiden aunt (Tiim- 
tum-^wm .^), 
And to go there once again has been often my 
intent, 
But the railway fare's expensive, so I can't! 
(^i^?7i-tum !) 
Still I never can forget that night when last we 
met : 
" Oh, promise me — whate'er you do 1 " she 
said {Tiim-\jVjn.-tuml)^ 
"Wear flannel next your chest, and when you go 
to rest. 
Keep a night-light always burning by your 
bed!" (I^wm-tum!) 



THE PLAINTIVELY PATHETIC. 89 

Refrain ( jy ianissimo) . 

And my eyes are dim and wet ; 

For I seem to hear them yet — 
Those solemn words at parting that she said 

( Tum-tuin-tum /) ; 

"Now, mind you burn a night-light, 

— 'Twill last until it's quite light — 
In a saucerful of water by your bed ! " 

/Second Verse. 
I promised as she wished, and her tears I gently 
dried. 
As she gave me all the half-pence that she had. 
( Tum-iVim-tum /) 
And through the world e'er since I have wandered 
far and wide, 
And been gradually going to the bad! (^Tum- 

tum !) 
Many a folly, many a crime I've committed in my 

time. 
For a lawless and a checkered life I've led ! 

( Tum-ium.-tw7i /) 
Still I've kept the promise sworn — flannel next 

my skin I've worn. 
And I've always burnt a night-light by my bed ! 
(Tum-tuml) 



90 MB. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

Refrain. 

All unhallowed my pursuits, 

(Oft to bed I've been in boots ! ) 
Still o'er my uneasy slumber lias been shed {Tumr 

twmrtum /) 

The moderately bright light 

Afforded by a night-light, 
In a saucerful of water by my bed ! {Tum-t\xm. !) 

Third Verse. (^To he sung tvitli increasing solemnity.^ 

A little while ago, in a dream my aunt I saw ; 
In her frill-surrounded night-cap there she 
stood ! ( Tiim-tMYa-tiim. /) 
And I sought to hide my head 'neath the counter- 
pane in awe, 
And I trembled — for my conscience isn't good ! 
(2^^tm-tum!) 
But her countenance was mild — so indulgently 
she smiled 
That I knew there was no further need for 
dread ! ( Tuin-t\nn.-timi /) 
She had seen the flannel vest enveloping my chest, 
And the night-light in its saucer by my bed! 
(^Tum-tMm !) 



THE PLAINTIVELY PATHETIC, 91 

Refrain (jnore pianissimo stilV). 

But ere a word she spoke, 

I unhappily awoke ! 
And away, alas! the beauteous vision fled! (^Tiun- 

tjxm-tum /) 
Qln mournful recitation^. — There was nothing but 

the slight light 

Of the melancholy night-light 
That was burning in a saucer by my bed I 

(^wm-tum!) 



XIII. — THE MILITARY IMPER- 
SONATOR. 

To be a successful Military Impersonator, the 
principal requisite is a uniform, which may be 
purchased for a moderate sum, second-hand, in 
the neighborhood of almost any barracks. Some 
slight acquaintance with the sword exercise and 
elementary drill is useful, though not absolutely 
essential. Furnished- with these, together with a 
few commanding attitudes, and a song possessing 
a spirited, martial refrain, the Military Imper- 
sonator may be certain of an instant and striking 
success upon the Music-hall stage, — especially if 
he will condescend to avail himself of the ballad 
provided by Mr. Punchy as a vehicle for his 
peculiar talent. And, though we say it our- 
selves, it is a very nice ballad, to which Mr. 
McDougall himself would find it difficult to take 
exception. It is in three verses, too, — the limit 
understood to be formally approved by the London 
County Council for such productions. It may be, 
indeed, that (save so far as the last verse illus- 
trates the heroism of our troops in action — a 

92 



THE MILITARY IMPERSONATEB. 93 

heroism too real and too splendid to be rendered 
ridiculous, even by Military Impersonators), tlie 
song does not convey a particularly accurate notion 
of the manner and pursuits of an officer in the 
Guards. But then no Music-hall ditty can ever be 
accepted as a quite infallible authority upon any 
social type it may undertake to depict — with the 
single exception, perhaps, of the Common (or 
Howling) Cad. So that any lack of actuality 
here will be rather a merit than a blemish in the 
eyes of an indulgent audience. Having said so 
much, we will proceed to our ballad, which is 
called, — 

IN THE GUARDS! 

Fi7;§t Verse. 

I'm a Guardsman, and my manner is perhaps a bit 

^' haw-haw ; " 
But when you're in the Guards you've got to show 

esprit de corps. 

\_Pronounce " a spreedy core^ 
We look such heavy swells, you see, we're all 

aristo-erats, 
When on parade we stand arrayed in our 'eavy 

bearskin 'ats. 



94 MB. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

Chorus (^during tvJuch the Martial Star ivill march 
round the stage in military order^. 

We're all "'Ugliies," "Berties," "Archies," 

In the G uarcls ! Doncher know ? 
Twisting silky long mustarches, 

'[Suit the action to the tvord here, 
Bein' Guards ! Doncher know? 
While our band is playing Marches, 

For the Guards ! Doncher know ? 
And the ladies stop to gaze upon the Guards, 

^ing-Batig ! 

[Here a member of the orchestra will oblige with the 
cymbals.^ while the vocalist performs a military 
salute.) as he passes to — 

Second Verse. 

With duchesses I'm 'and in glove, with countesses 
I'm thick ; 

From all the nobs I get invites — they say I am 

''80 chief' 

[Pronounce "• chick. ^^ 
It often makes me laugh to read, whene'er I go off 

guard, 
" Dear Bertie, come to my At Home ! " on a coro- 
net ted card ! 



THE MILITARY IMPERSONATOR. 95 

CI torus. 

For we're '' Berties," " 'Ugliies," " Archies," 
In the Guards ! Doncher know? 

With our silky long mustarches, 

In the Guards ! Doncher know ? 

Where's a regiment that marches 

Like the Guards? Doncher know? 

All the darlings • — bless 'em! — dote upon the 

Guards, 

Wing-Bang ! 

Third Verse. 

\^Here comes the singer'' s great chance.^ and., hy merely 
taking a little pains^ he may make a tremendously- 
effective thing out of it. If he can manage to 
slip aivay between the verses^ and change his hear* 
skin and scarlet coat for a solar topee and kharkee 
'tunic at the ivings^ it will produce an enormous 
amount of enthusiasm., only he must not take more 
than five minutes over this alter atioii., or the 
audience — so curiously are British audieyices conr 
stituted — may groiv impatient for his return. 

But hark ! the trumpet sounds ! . . . {Kere a 
member of the orchestra will oblige upon the trum- 
pet. ) What's this ? . . . ( The singer will take a 
folded paper from his breast and peruse it with 
attention.') We're ordered to the front ! 



96 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

\_This should be shouted. 
We'll show tlie foe how " Carpet-Knights " can 

face the battle's brunt ! 
They laugh at us as " Brummels " — but we'll 

prove ourselves " Baj^-yards ! " 
[_]!^ow the Mm^tial Star will draw his sword and urv- 
fasten his revolver-case^ taking up the exact pose 
in which he is represented upon the posters out' 
side. 
As you were ! . . . Form Square ! . . . Mark 
Time! . . . Slope Arms! . . . now — 'Tention! 
. . . (^These military evolutions should all he 
gone through hy the artist.^ Forward, Guards ! 

[ To be yelled through music. 

Chorus. 
Onward every 'ero marches, 

In the Guards ! Doncher know ? 
All the " 'Ughies," " Berties," " Archies," 

Of the Guards! Doncher know? 
They may twist their long mustarches, 

For thej^'re Guards ! Doncher know ? 
Dandies ? yes, — but dandy lions are the Guards ! 

IBmg-Bang ! 

\_Red fire and smoJce at tvi'ngs^ as curtain falls upon 
the Military Impersonator in the act of changing 
to a neiu attitude. 



MODEL MUSIC HALL. 



DRAMAS. 



I.— THE LITTLE CROSSING-SWEEPER. 



PEK. ( 

,.,(,. . Miss Jenny Jikns. 
.rtist ) 



Dramatis Pehson^. 

The Little Chossing-Sweepek. 

By the unrivalled Variety Ai 
The Duke of Dillavatek . . . Mr. Henky Irving. 

{Specially engaged ; Mr. Punch is sure that he will cheerfully 
make some slight sacrifice for so good a cause, and he can 
easily slip out and get back again between the Acts of Henry 
the Eighth.'^ 

A Policeman Mr. Eutland Bariungton 

[Engaged, at enormous expense, during the entire run of this 
piece. 

A ButIjIlh (his original part) . . . . Mr. Arthur Cecil. 

Foot-Passengers, Flunkeys, Burglars. — By the cele- 
brated Knockabout Quick-change Troupe. 

Scene I. — Exterior of the Duke's mansion in 
JEuston Square hy night. On the right., a realis- 
tic moon (hy kind jjermission of Professor 
Herkomer) is rising sloivly behind a lamp-post. 
On left centre.^ a practicable pillar-box., and cross- 
ing., ivith real mud. Slow music, as Miss Jekny 
Jinks enters, in rags, luith broom. Various char- 
acters cross the street, post letters, etc.; MiSS 
Jinks follows them, begging piteously for a cop- 

99 



100 ME. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

per, which is invariably refused., whereupon she 
assails them with choice specimens of street sar- 
casm — luhich the lady may he safely trusted to 
improvise for herself. 

Miss Jenky Jinks (leaning despondently against 
pillar-box, on which a ray of limelight falls in the 
opposite direction to the moon^. 

Ah, this cruel London, so marble-'arted and vast, 
Where all who try to act honest are condemned to 
fast! 

Enter two Burglaes cautiously. 

First B. (to Miss J. J.) We can put you up to a 
fake as will be w^orth your while, 

For you seem a sharp, 'andy lad, and just our 
style ! 

[ They proceed to unfold a scheme to breah into the 
Ducal abode, and offer Miss J. a share of the 
spoil, if she tuill allow herself to he put through 
the pantry wi?idow. 

Miss J. J. (proudly^. I tell yer I won't 'ave 
nothink to do with it, fur I ain't been used 

To sneak into the house of a Dook to whom I 
'aven't been introdooced ! 



THE LITTLE CEOSSING-SWEEPE. 101 

Second Bueglar (^coarsely). Stow that snivel, 
yer young himp, we don't want none of 
that bosh ! 
Miss J. J. (with spirit). You hold your jaw — 
for, when you opens yer mouth, there ain't 
much o' yer face left to wash ! 
[^The BuEGLARS retire^ baffled^ and muttering. 
Miss J. leaiis against pillar-box again — hut 
more irresolutely. 
I've arf a mind to run after 'em, I 'ave, and tell 

'em I'm game to stand in ! . . . 
But ah, — didn't my poor mother say as Burglary 

was a Sin! 
[Duke crosses stage in a hurry ; as he pulls out 
Ms latchkey, a threepenny bit falls unregarded, 
except by the little Sweepee^ who pounces 
eagerly upon it. 

What's this? A bit o' good luck at last for a 

starvin' orfin boy ! 
What shall I buy? I know — I'll have a cup of 

cawfy, and a prime saveloy ! 

Ah, — but it ainH mine — and 'ark . . . that music 

up in the air ! 

\^A harp is heard in the flies. 

Can it be mother a-playin' on the 'arp to warn her 

boy to beware? 



102 MB. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

(^Awestruck.') There's a angel voice that is say in' 
plain (^solemnli/^^ " Him as prigs what isn't 
his'n ; 

Is snre to be copped some diij — and then — his 
time he will do in prison ! " 

\_G-oes resolutely to the doo)\ and knocks. The 
Duke tJirows ojjen the portals. 

Miss J. J. If yer please, sir, was you aware as 
you've dropped a thruppenny-bit? 

The Duke (after examininy the cohi). 'Tis the 
very piece I have searched for everywhere ! 
You rascal, you've stolen it! 

Miss J. J. (bitterly}. And that's hoAV a Dook 
rewards honesty in this world ! 

\_This line is sure of a round of applause. 
The Duke (calling off}. Policeman, I give this 
lad in charge for a shameless attempt to 
rob, 

Enter Policeman. 

Unless he confesses instantly who put him up to 

tlie job ! 
Miss J. J. (earnestly}. I've told yer the bloomin' 

truth, I 'ave — or send I may die ! 
I'm on'y a Crossing-sweeper, sir, but I'd scorn to 

tell yer a lie ! 



THE LITTLE CROSSING-SWEEPER. 103 

Give me a quarter of an hour — no more — just 

time to kneel down and pray, 
As I used to at mother's knee long ago — then 

the Copper kin lead me away. 
[Kneels in limelight. The Policeman turns 
aivay, and uses his handkerchief violently ; the 
Duke ruhs his eyes. 
The Duke. No, blow me if I can do it, for I 

feel my eyes are all twitching ! 
( With conviction.^ If he's good enough to kneel 
by his mother's side, he's good enough to be 
in my kitching ! 
[Duke dismisses Constable, and, after disap- 
pearing into the mansion for a moment, returns 
tvith a neat page's livery, which he presents to 
the little Ceossing-sweeper. 

Miss J. J. (naively^. 'Ow much shall I ask for 
on this, Sir? What! Yer don't mean to 
say they're for me ! 

Am I really to be a Page to one of England's 
proud aristocra-cee ? " [^Does some steps. 

Mechanical change to Scene II. — State apartment 
at the Duke's. Magnificent furniture, gilding, 
chandeliers. Suits of genuine old armor. Statu- 
ary (lent by British and Kensington Museums). 



104 3ni. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

Enter Miss J., with her face zvashed, and looking 
particidarly plump in her page's livery. She 
wanders about stage., making any humorous com- 
ments that may occur to her on the armor and 
statuary. She might also play tricks on the 
hitler, and kiss the maids — all of 2vhich will 
serve to relieve the piece by delicate touches of 
comedy, and delight a discriminating audience. 

Enter the Duke. 

I hope, my lad, that we are making you comfort- 
able here ? [Kindly. 

Miss J. J. Never was in such slap-up quarters in 
my life, sir, I'll stick to yer, no fear! 

[In the course of conversation the Duke learns, 
tvith aristocratic surprise, that the Page's mother 
was a singer at the Music Halls. 

Miss J. J. AVhat, don't know what a Music- 
'airs like ? and you a Dook ! Well, you are a 
jolly old juggins ! 'Ere, you sit down on this 
gilded cheer — that's the ticket — I'll bring you 
your champagne and your cigars — want a light ? 
(^Strikes 7natch on her pantaloons.^ Now you're all 
comfortable. 



THE LITTLE CROSSINGS WEEPEB. 105 

The Duke sits doivn, smiling indulgently^ out of her 
way^ luhile she introduces her popular Vocal Char- 
acter Sketchy of luhich space only p)ermits us to 
give afeiv specimen verses. 

First the Champion Comic 

Steps upon the stage ; 
With his latest " Grand Success," 

Sure to be the rage I 
Sixty pounds a week he 

Easily can earn; 
Round the Music Halls he goes, 

And does at each a " turn." 

Illustration. 

Undah the stors in a sweet shady dairl, 
I strolled with me awm round a deah little gairl, 
And whethaw I kissed har yaw'd like me to tairl — 
Well, I'd rawthah you didn't inquiah ! 

All golden her hair is, 
She's queen of the Fairies, 
And known by the name of the lovely Mariah, 
She's a regular Venus, 
But what passed between us, 
I'd very much rawthah you didn't inquiah ! 



106 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL 31 U SIC HALL. 

Next the Lady Serio, 

Mincing as she walks ; 
If a note's too high for her, 

She doesn't sing — she talks, 
What she thinks abont the men 

You're pretty sure to learn. 
She always has a hit at them, 

Before she's done her "turn !" 

Illustration. 
You notty young men, ow I you notty young men ! 
You tell us you're toffs, and the real Upper Ten, 
But behind all your ears is the mark of a j)en ! 
So don't you deceive us, you notty young men ! 

Miss J. J. (^concluding). And such, sir, [ire these 

entertainments grand. 
In which Mirth and Refinement go 'and-in-'and ! 

[J.S the Duke is expressing his ajjpreciation of the 
elevating effect of such performances., the BuTLEB 
rushes in^ folloived by tivo flurried Footmen. 

Butler. Pardon this interruption, my Lord, but 

I come to announce the fact 
That by armed house-breakers the pantry has just 

been attacked ! 



THE LITTLE OROSSING-SWEEPER. 107 

Duke. Then we'll repel them — each to his 

weaj^ons look I 
I know how to defend my property, although I 

am a Dook ! 
Miss J. J. (^snatching sword from one of the men- 

in-armor^. 
With such a weapon I their hash will settle ! 
YouHl lend it, won't yer, old Britannia Metal ? 

\_Shouts and firi7ig ivitliout ; the FoOTMEN hide 

under sofa. 
Let flunkeys flee — though danger may encircle us, 
A British Buttons ain't afeard of Burgulars ! 
^Tremendous firing^ during which the BuEGLARS 

are supposed to he repulsed with heavy loss hy the 

Duke, Butler, and Page. 
Miss J. J. 'Ere — I say, Dook, I saved yer life, 
didn't yer hnoio ? 

(^A parting shot, upon ivhicli she staggers hach ivith 

a ringing scream.^ 
The Brutes I they've been and shot me ! . . . 
Mother ... Oh! 

[^Dies in limelight a^id great agony ; the Footmen 
come out from under sofa and regard luith sorroiu- 
ing admiration the lifeless form of the Little 
Crossing-sweeper, ivhieh the Duke, as curtain 
falls, covers reverently luith the best table-cloth. 



II. — JOE, THE JAM-EATER. 

A MUSICAL SPECTACULAR AND SENSATIONAL 
INTERLUDE. 

(^Dedicated respectfully to Mr. McDougall and the 

L. C. C.) 

The Music-hall Dramatist, like Sliakspeare and 
Moliere, has a right to take his material from any 
source that may seem good to him. Mr. Punchy 
therefore, makes no secret of the fact that he has 
based the following piece upon the well-known 
poem of " The Purloiner," by the Sisters Jane 
and Ann Taylor, who were not, as might be too 
hastily concluded, "Song and Dance Duettists," 
but two estimable ladies, who composed "cau- 
tionary" verses for the young, and whose works 
are a perfect mine of wealth for Moral Dramatists. 
In this dramatic version the author has tried to 
infuse something;- of the old Greek sense of an 
overruling destiny, without detriment to prevail- 
ing ideas of moral responsibility. Those who 
have the misfortune to be born with a propensity 

lOS 



JOE, THE JAM-EATEB. 109 

for illicit jam, may learn from our drama the 
terrible results of failing to overcome it early in 
life. 

JOB, THE JAM-BATBR. 
Dramatis Pehson^. 

Jam-Loving Joe. By that renowned Melodramatic Serio- 
comic, Miss Connie Cuedlee. 

Joe's Mother {tJie very part for Miis. Bancroft, if she can 
only be induced to make her reappearance). 

John, a Gardener. By the great Pink-eyed Unmusical Zulu. 

Jim-Jam, the Feiimentation Fiend. By Mr. Beekbohm 
Tree ({y/<o has kindly consented to undertake the part). 

Chorus of Plum and Pear Gatherers /7^om </ie Savoy {by 
kind permission of Mr. D'Oyly Carte). 

Scene. — The Store-room at sunset, with view of 
exterior of Jam Cupboard, and orchard in dis- 
tance. 

- Enter Job. 

"As Joe was at play, Near the cupboard one day, When he 
thousrht no one saw but himself." — Vide Poem. 

Joe (dreamily). 'Tis passing strange that I so 

partial am 
To playing in the neighborhood of Jam ! 



110 3IE. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL, 

\_IIere Miss Cuedler will 'mtroduce her great 
humorous Satirical Medley illustrative of the 
Sports of Childhood^ and entitled,, " Some little 
Gymes we all of us 'ave Plied ; " after which,, 
enter Joe's mother^ foUotved hy John and the 
Chorus,) ivith baskets^ ladders,, etc. ^ for gathering 
fruit. 

" His Mother and John, To the garden had gone, To gather 
ripe pears and ripe plums." — Poem. 

Joe's Mother (^tvith forced cheerfuhiess') — 
Let's hope, my friends, to find our pears and 

plums, 
Unharmed by wopses, and untouched by wums. 

[ Chorus signify assent in the usual manner^ hy hold- 
ing up the right hand. 

Solo. — John. 
Fruit, when gathered ripe is wholesome — 

Otherwise if eaten green. 
Once I knew a boy who stole some — 
[ With a glance at Joe, tvho turns aside to conceal 
his confusion. 

His internal pangs were keen ! 
Chorus (yirtuously'). 'Tis the doom of all wlio're 

mean, 
Tiieir internal pangs are keen ! 



JOE, THE JAM-EATER. Ill 

Joe's Mother (aside). By what misgivings is a 

mother tortured! 
I'll keep my eye on Joseph in the orchard. 

l_She myites him with a gesture to follow, 
Joe (earnestly). Nay, Mother, here I'll stay till 

you have done. 
Temptation it is ever best to shun ! 
Joe's Mother. So laudable his wish, I would 

not cross it — 
(^Mysteriously.) He knows not there are jam-pots 
in yon closet ! 

Chorus. 
Away we go tripping, 
From boughs to be stripping 
Each pear, plum, and pippin 

Pomona supplies ! 
When homeward we've brought 'em, 
Those products of autumn, 
We'll carefully sort 'em 

(One of our old Music-hall rhymes). 
According to size ! 

\_Re2jeat as they caper out. 
[Joe's Mother, after one fond., lingering look he- 
hind., follows : the voices are heard more and more 
faintly in the distance. Stage darkens: the last 
ray of sunset illumines key of jam-cuphoard door. 



112 ME. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. ^ 

Joe. At last I am alone I Suppose I tried 
That cupboard — just to see what's kept inside? 
l_See77is drawn toivards it hy 8ome fatal fascination. 

There might be Guava jelly, and a plummy cake, 
For such a prize I'd laugh to scorn a stomach-ache ! 

\_Lauglis a stomach-ache to scorn. 

And yet (hesitating')., who knows ? — a pill . . . 

perchance — a powder ! 
(Desperately.) What then ? To scorn I'll laugh 

them — even louder ! 

\_Fetches chair and unlocks cupboard. Doors fall 
op)en with loud clang., revealing interior of jam- 
closet (^.painted hy Hawes Craven), Joe 
mounts chair to explore shelves. 

" How sorry I am, He ate raspberry jam, And cm'rants that 
stood on the shelf ! " — Vide Foem. 

Joe (speaking luith mouth full and bach to audience). 
'Tis raspberry — of all the jams my favorite ; 
I'll clear the pot, whate'er I have to pay for it ! 
And finish up with currants from this shelf. . . . 
Who'll ever see me ? 

The Demon of the j ayn-closet (rising sloivly from an 
immense pot of preserves). No one — but My- 
self! 



JOE, THE JAM-EATEB. 113 

\^The cuphoard is lit hy an infernal glare {cour- 
teoudy lent hy the Lyce%ir)i Management from 
'-'' T^ausV fvoperties); weird music. Joe turns 
sloivly^ and confronts the Demon with awestruck 
eyes. N.B. — G-reat opportunity for powerful 
acting here. 

The Demon" (with a bland sneer}. Pray don't 
mind me — I will await your leisure. 

Joe (automatically^. Of your acquaintance, sir, 
I've not the pleasure. 

Who are you ? Wherefore have you intervened ? 

The Demon (quietly}. My name is " Jim- Jam ; " 
occupation — fiend. 

Joe (cowering limply on his chair}. O Mr. Fiend, 
I hiow it's very wrong of me ! 

Demon (politely}. Don't mention it — but please 
to come "along of" me? 

Joe '(imploringly}. Do let me off this once, — 
ha ! you're relenting, 

You smile — 

Demon (grimly}. 'Tis nothing but my jam fer- 
menting ! 
\^Oatches Joe's ankle, and assists him to descend. 

Joe. You'll drive me mad ! 

Demon (carelessly}. I may — before I've done 
with you ! 



11-i MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

Joe. What do you want ? 

Demon (^darhly'). To have a little fun with you! 

Of fiendish humor now I'll give a specimen. 

\_Chases him round and round stage^ and proceeds 
to smear him hideously/ with jam. 

Joe (^piteously). Oh, don't! I feel so sticky. 

What a mess I'm in ! 
Demon (loith affected sympathy'). That is the 

worst of jam — it's apt to stain you. 

[To Joe, as he frantically endeavors to remove the 

traces of crime. 

I see you're busy — so I'll not detain you ! 

[ Vanishes down stair-trap with a diabolical laugh. 
Cuphoard-doors close loith a clang; all lights 
down. Joe stands gazing hlanldy for some 
moments., and then drags himself off stage. His 
Mother and John, with j^ear and plum gath- 
erers hearing laden baskets^ appear at doo7:s at 
bach of scene,, m faint light of torches. 

Re-enter Joe, hearing a candle and tvringing his 

hands. 

Joe. Out, jammed spot ! What — will these 

hands never be clean? 
Here's the smell of the raspberry jam still ! All 



JOE, TUE JAM-EATER. 115 

tlie powders of Gregory cannot unsweeten this 
little hand. . . . (Moaning.) Oh, oh, oh! 

[This jjassaf/e has been accused of bearing too close 
a resemblance to one in a i^opidar stage play ; 
if so^ the coincidence is purely accidental^ as the 
dramatist is not in the habit of reading such pro- 
fane literature. 

Joe's Mother. Ah ! what an icy dread my heart 

benumbs ! 
See — stains on all his fingers, and his thumbs ! 

"What Joe was about, His mother found out, When she 
look'd at his fingers and thumbs." — Poem again. 

Nay, Joseph — > 'tis your mother . . . speak to her ! 
Joe (tonelessly., as before). Lady, I know you 
not {touches loiuer part of luaistcoat) ; but, prithee, 
undo this button. I think I have jam in all my 
veins, and I would fain sleep. When I am gone, 
lay me in a plain white jelly-pot, with a parch- 
ment cover, and on the label write — but come 
nearer, I have a secret for your ear alone ... 
there are strange things in so7ne cupboards ! 
Demons should keep in the dust-bin. (^With a 
ghastly smile.) I know not what ails me, but I 
am not feeling at all well. 



116 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

[Joe's Mother stands a few steps from him^ with 
her hands twisted in her hair^ and stares at him in 
speechless terror, 

Joe (to the Chorus'). I would shake hands with 
you all, were not my fingers so sticky. We eat 
marmalade, but we know not what it is made of. 
Hush ! if Jim- Jam comes again, tell him that I 
am not at home. Loo-loo-loo ! 

All (luith conviction). Some shock has turned 
his brine I 

Joe (sitting doivn on floor., and iveaving stratus in 
his hair). My curse upon him that invented jam. 
Let us all play Tibbits. 

\_Laughs vacantly ; all gather round him.) shaking 
their heads, his I^Lotker falls fainting at his feet 
as curtain falls upon a strong and moral, though 
undeniably gloomy denoument. 



III. — THE MAN-TRAP. 

This drama, which, like our last, has been sug- 
gested by a poem of the Misses Taylor, will be 
found most striking and impressive in representa- 
tion upon the Music-hall stage. The dramatist 
has ventured to depart somewhat from the letter, 
though not the spirit, of the original text, in his 
desire to enforce the moral to the fullest possible 
extent." Our present piece is intended to teach 
the great lesson that an inevitable Nemesis attends 
apple-stealing in this world, and that Doom can- 
not be disarmed by the intercession of the evil- 
doer's friends, however well-meaning. 

THE MAN-TRAP. 

A THRILLING MORAL MUSICAL SENSATION SKETCH 

IN ONE SCENE. 

Dkamatis Persons. 

William (a Good Boy) . . Mil. Harry Nicholls. 

Thomas (a Bad Boy) . . Mr. Herbert Campbell. 

{mio have, kindly offered their services.) 

Benjamin (neither one thing nor the other), Mr. Samuel 
Super. 

The Monster Man-Trap . Mr. George Conquest. 

117 



118 MR. PUXCII'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

Scene. — A71 elaborate set, representing, on extreme 
left, a portion of the highroad, and tcall dividing 
it from an orchard; realistic apple and pear 
trees laden ivitli fruit. Time, about four o'clock 
on a hot afternoon. Enter William and 
Thomas, hand-in-hand, along road ; they ignore 
the dividing wall, and advance to front of stage. 

Duet. — William and Thoimas. 

Wm. I'm a reg'lar model boy, I am ; so please 
make no mistake. 
It's Thomas who's the bad 'un — Pm the good ! 
Thos. Yes, I delight in naughtiness, for naughti- 
ness's sake. 
And I wouldn't be like William if I could I 

Chorus. 

Wm. Ever since I could toddle, my conduct's 

been model. 
There's, oh, such a difference between me and 

him ! 
Thos. While still in the cradle, T orders obeyed 

ill, 
. And now I've grown into a awful young limb ! 

f he's I grown into a awful 

Together. Yes, now ^ t, ( t i 

i 1 ve j young iimb. 

I've made up vaj mind not to imitate him! 

l_IIere they dance. 



THE MAN-TRAP. 119 

Second Verse. 
Wm. If some one hits him in the eye, he always 
hits them back ! 
When /am struck, my Ma I merely tell I 
On passing fat pigs in a lane, he'll give 'em each a 

a whack ! 
Thos. (impenitently'). And jolly fun it is to 
hear 'em yell! [Chorus. 

Third Verse. 
Wm. He's always cribbing coppers — which he 

spends on lollipops. 
Thos. (A share of which you yg never yet 

refused!) 
Wm, a stone he'll shy at frogs and toads, and 

anything that hops ! 
Thos. (While you look on, and seem to be 

amused!) [Chorus. 

Fourth Verse. 
Wm. As soon as school is over, Thomas goes 
a-hunting squirr'ls. 
Or butterflies he'll capture in his hat! 
Thos. You play at Kissing in the Ring with all 

the little girls ! 
Wm. (demurely'). Well, Thomas, I can see no harm 
in that! IChorus. 



120 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

Fifth Verse. 

Wm. Ah, Thomas, if you don't reform, you'll 
come to some bad end ! 

Tpios. Oh, William, put your head inside a bag ! 

Wm. No, Thomas, that I cannot — till you prom- 
ise to amend ! 

Thos. Why, William, what a chap you are to nag ! 

\_Chorus and dance, Thoimas returns to road^ and 
regards the apple-trees longingly over top of wall. 

Thos. Hi, William, look . . . what apples ! there 

— don't you see ? 
And pears — my eye ! just ainH they looking juicy ! 
Wm. Nay, Thomas, since you're bent upon a sin, 
I will walk on, and visit Benjamin ! 

{Exit William (l. 2 e.), ivMle Thomas proceeds 
to scale the wall and climb the boughs of the near- 
est pear-tree. Melodramatic Music. The Mon- 
ster Maist-te-AP stealthily emerges from long grass 
below, and fixes a baleful eye on the unconscious 
Thomas. 

Thos. I'll fill my pockets, and on pears I'll feast ! 

[^Sees Man-trap, and staggers. 
Oh, lor — whatever is that hugly beast ! 
Hi, help, here ! call him off ! . . . 



THE MAN-TRAP. 121 

The Monster. 'Tis vain to holler — 

My borders are — all trespassers to swoller ! 

You just come down — I'm waiting 'ere to ketch 

you. 
{Indignantly.) You dont expect I'm coming up to 

fetch you ! 
Thos. {'politehj). Oh, not if it would inconvenience 

you., sir ! 
{In agonized aside.) I feel my grip grow every 

moment looser ! 

The MoNSTEE,, in a slow., uncouth manner., i^roceeds 
to scramble up the tree. 

Oh, here's a go ! The horrid thing can climh ! 
Too late I do repent me of my crime ! 

\_Terrific sensation chase! The Monster Man- 
trap leaps from hough to hough with horrible 
agility., and eventually secures his prey., and leaps 
ivith it to the ground. 

Thos. {in the Monster's jaws). I'm sure you 

seem a kind, good-natured creature — 
You will not harm me ? 
Monster. No — I'll only eat yer ! 

[ThojVIAS sloiuly vanishes doivn its cavernous jaivs ; 
faint yells are heard at intervals — -then nothing 



122 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL 31 U SIC HALL. 

hut a dull champing sound; after which., dead 
silence. The Monster smiles., ivith an air of 
repletion. 

Re-enter William, /rom r., with Benjamin. 

Benjamin. I'm very glad you came — but where 

is Thomas? 
Wm. {severely). Tom is a wicked boy, and better 

from us, 
For on the road he stopped to scale a wall ! . . . 

\Sees Man-trap, and starts. 
Wheit's that? 
Benj. It will not hurt good boys at all — 

It's only Father's Man-trap — why so pale? 
Wm. The self-same tree ! . . . the wall that Tom 

would scale ! 
Where's Thomas noiv ? Ah, Tom, the wilful pride 

of 3^ou ! 

\_The Man-trap affects an elaborate imconsciousness. 

Benj. (with sudden enlightenment). Man-trap, I do 
believe poor Tom's inside of you ! 

That sort of smile's exceedingly suspicious. 

\^The Man-trap endeavors to hide in the grass. 

Wm. Ah, Monster, give him back — 'tis true he's 
vicious, 



THE MAN-TRAP. 123 

And had no business to go making free with you ! 
But think, so bad a boy will disagree with you ! 

[William mid Benjaivon hieel m attitudes of en- 
treat i/ on either side of the Man-trap, luhich 
shows signs of increasing emotion as the song 

proceeds, 

Benjamin (sings). 

Man-trap, bitter our distress is, 
That you Lave unkindly penned 

In your innermost recesses 

One who used to be our friend ! 

William {sings) . 

In his downward course arrest him ! 

(He may take a virtuous tack) ; 
Pause awhile, ere you digest him, 

Make an effort — bring him back ! 

The Man-trap is convidsed hy a violent heave ; 
k Williajvi and Benjaimin hend forivard in an 
agony of expectation^ until a small shoe and the 
leg of Thomas's pantaloons are finally emitted 
from the Monster's jaivs. 
Benj. {exultantly). See, William, now he's com- 
ing . . . here's his shoe for you ! 
The Man-trap (tvith an accent of genuine regret). 
I'm sorry — but that's all that I can do for 
you! 



124 Mh\ ri'.\('n's modkl mvsic hall. 

VVm. {rdlxinjl (lie i<lti)(' (tiid the laf oj' jxdiliihu))!^^ and 

liohlitn/ tlnin xorroirfull i/ al <(nii\s Iciiijlh). 

lie's incl. (lie lat.c^ whirli luoniJisls all [)r()m- 

isc is 
'I'lic end of siicli depraved careers a,s TlioiiKis's ! 
( )li, I M'lijainiii, lake wai'iiiii^' l»y ii. Ar-1 iiue ! 
{^Morc />/■/(///////). liid. now to \va.sli oui* lia.ii(ls — 

'(is nearly Ica-limi^ ! 

[KicnnJ William <fH<l r>KN,iAMiN, to wash their 
hmuit<, tix i^urlain. J'alU. N. li. -TliU finale is 
■more (ruJ// ari/'s(i<\ <ui(l in (uwoniance with, moderyi 
dramdiic /f/c^cs-, (Iian. I he roiuwulioiud '-''picture,'''' 



IV. — THE FATAL PIN. 

Our present example is pure tragedy of tlie most 
ambitious kind, and is, perhaps, a little in advance 
of the taste of a Miisi(;-]iall ;indi(;nc(; of the present 
day. When the fusion between the Theatres and 
the Music Halls is complete — when Miss liessie 
lUillwood sings ''What Cheer, Ria?'' at tlic; 
J>y(;(!um, ;ind Mr. Henry Jrving gives bis (;oin- 
pressed version of Ilamlei at th(i Tj-ociidiiio; when 
then; is a g(;n(;i'al ]<iV(;lliii^-uj) of (Uiiture, iiii<l vo- 
moval of prejndice — tlien, :uid not till tlu^n, will 
this powoifiil little ])liiy meet with the appreciation 
which is its dii(3. The main idea is snggesUid by 
the Misses Tayloi-'s well-known poem, The Pin, 
though the driun;ilist has gone fiii'lher than th(3 
poetess in woiking out the notion of N(!ni(;sis. 

THE FATAL PIN. 
A TRAGEDY. 

DilAMATIH riOliKONylO. 

Emily TJiokdlkkr. Jiy either Mihh Vicsta Tillioy or MitH. 

JjE1:NAKI> liKIOIllG. 

Peter Pauaoon. Mii. Fokbks Roukiitson or Mil. Aiitiiuu 
UoBKitTH (only he mustn't sing " The Good Young Man 
who Died''). 

First and Second Bridesmaids. Miss Maude Millett 

and Miss Annie nuGiiES. 

125 



126 3IE. rUNCII'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

Scene. — Emily's Boudoir, siimptuoiisly furnished 
with a screen and sofa, C. Door, R., leading to 
Emily's Bed-chamber. Boor, l. EjNIILY discov- 
ered in loose scrapper, and reclining in uncomfort- 
able position on sofa. 

Emily (^dreamily'). This day do I become the 

envied bride 
Of Peter, justly siirnamed Paragon ; 
And much I wonder what in me he found 
(lie, who Perfection so personifies), 
Tliat he could condescend an eye to cast 
On faulty feather-headed Emily ! 
How solemn is the stillness all around me ! 

[A loud hang is heard hehi7id screen. 
Methought I heard the dropping of a pin ! — 
Perhaps I should arise and search for it. . . . 
Yet why, on second thoughts, disturb myself, 
Since I am, by my settlements, to have 
A handsome sum allowed for pin-money ? 
Nay, since thou claim'st thy freedom, little pin, 
I lack the heart to keep thee prisoner. 
Go, then, and join the great majority 
Of fallen, vagrant, unregarded pinhood — 
My bliss is too supreme at such an hour 
To heed such infidelities as thine. 

\_Falls into a happy revery. 



THE FATAL PIN. 127 

Enter FmsT and Second Bridesmaids. 

FiiisT AND Second Bridesmaids. What, how 
now, Emily — not yet attired? 

Nay, haste, for Peter will be here anon ! 

[^They hurry her off by n. door^ just as Peter 
Paragon enters L. in bridal array. iV. B. — The 
exigencies of the Drama are responsible for his 
making his appearance here, instead of waiting^ as 
is more usual, at the church. 

Peter ^meditatively'). The golden sands of my 
celibacy 

Are running low — soon falls the final grain! 

Yet, even now, the glass I would not turn. 

My Emily is not without her faults, 

" Was not without them," I should rather say, 

For during ten idyllic years of courtship, 

By precept and example I have striven 

To mould her to a helpmate fit.ior me. 

Now, thank the gods, niy labors are complete. 

She stands redeemed from all her giddiness ! 

\_IIere he stejjs upon the pin, and utters an excla- 
mation. 

Ha 1 What is this ? Fm wounded . . . agony ! 

With what a darting pain my foot's transfixed ! 

I'll sunnnon help (tvitli calm courage') — yet, stay, 
I would not dim 



128 3IB. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

This nuptial day by any sombre cloud. 

I'll bear this stroke alone — and now to probe 

The full extent of my calamity. 

\_Seats himself on sofa in such a position as to he con- 
cealed hy the screen from all hut the audience^ and 
proceeds to remove his hoot. 

Ye powers of Perfidy, it is a pin ! 
I must know more of this — for it is meet 
Such criminal neglect should be exposed. 
Severe shall be that housemaid's punishment 
Who's proved to be responsible for this ! • 
But soft, I hear a step. 

\_Enter First and Second Bridesmaids, ivho hunt 
diligently upon the carpet without ohserving Peter's 
presence. 

Emily's Voice (within'). Oh, search, I pray you. 

It must be there — my own ears heard it fall ! 

[Peter hetrays groicing uneasiness. 

The Bridesiviaids. Indeed, we fail to see it any- 
where ! 

Emily (entering distractedly in hridal costume., with 
a large rent in her trahi). 

You have no eyes, I tell you, let me help. 

It must be found, or I am all undone ! 

In vain my cuskion I have cut in two, 



THE FATAL PIN. 129 

'Twasvoidof all but stuffing. . . . Gracious Heavens, 
To think that all m}- future bliss depends 
On the evasive malice of a pin ! 

[Peter behind screen, starts violently/, 
Peter (aside'). A pin! what dire misgivings 
wring my heart ! 

[Rojos forward with a cold dignity, holding one foot 
in his hand. 

You seem in some excitement, Emily? 

Emily (^^^7c%). You, Peter !.». tell me — 

have you found a pin ? 
Peter Qivitli deadly calm). Unhappy girl — 

I have! (To Bridesmaids.) Withdraw 

a while, 
And should Ave need you we will summon you. 

[^Exeunt Bridesmaids ; Emily and Peter stand 
facing each other for some moments in dead 
silence. 

The pin is found — for I have trodden on it, 
And may, for aught I know, be lamed for life. 
Speak, Emily, what is that maid's desert 
Whose carelessness has led to this mishap ? 
Emily (in the desjjerate hope of shielding herself). 
Why, should the fault be traced to any maid. 



130 ME. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

Instant dismissal shall be her reward, 

With a month's wages paid in lieu of notice ! 

Peter (with a passionless severity^. From your 
own lips I judge you, Emily. 

Did they not own just now that you had heard 

The falling of a pin — yet heeded not ? 

Behold the outcome of your negligence ! 

[^Extends Ms injured foot. 

Emily. Oh, let me kiss the place and make it 
well ! 

Peter (coldly tuithdr awing foot'). Keep your 
caresses till I ask for them. 

My wound goes deeper than you wot of yet, 

And by that disregarded pin is pricked 

The iridescent bubble of Illusion ! 

EjVULY (sloivly). Indeed, I do not wholly compre- 
hend. 

Peter. Have patience, and I will be plainer yet. 

Mine is a complex nature, Emily; 

Magnanimous, but still methodical. 

An injury I freely can forgive, 

Forget it (strikhiy his chest), never ! She who 
leaves about 

Pins on the floor to pierce a lover's foot. 

Will surely plant a thorn within the side 

Of him whose fate it is to be her husband ! 



rilE FATAL PIN. 131 

Emily (dragging herself towards him on her 
knees}. Have pity on me, Peter; I was 
mad ! 
Peter (with emotion}. How can I choose but 
pity thee, poor soul. 
Who, for the sake of temporary ease, 
Hast forfeited the bliss that had been thine ! 
You could not stoop to pick a pin up. Why ? 
Because, forsooth, 'twas but a paltry pin ! 
Yet, duly husbanded, that self-same pin 
Had served you to secure your gaping train, 
Your self-respect — and Me. 
Emily (wailing}. What have I done ? 
Peter. I will not now reproach you, Emily, 
Nor would I dwell upon my wounded sole. 
The pain of which increases momently. 
I part from you in friendship, and in proof, 
That fated instrument I leave with you 
\_Presenting her with a pin, ivhieh she accepts 

mechanically. 
Which the frail link between us twain has severed. 
I can dispense with it, for in my cuff 
[_Shows her his coat-cuff, in which a row of pins'- 

heads is percejjtihle. 
I carry others 'gainst a time of need. 
My poor success in life I trace to this 



132 ME. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

That never yet I passed a pin unheeded. 
Emily. And is that all you have to say to me ? 
Petee. I think so — save that I shall wish you 

well, 
And pray that henceforth jow maj^ bear in mind • 
What vast importance lies in seeming trifles. 
Emily (ivith a pale smile). Peter, your lesson 

is already learned, 
For precious has this pin become for me, 
Since by its aid I gain oblivion — thus ! 

[Stabs herself . 
Peter (^coldly^. Nay, these are histrionics, Emily. 

[^ssz's^s her to sofa. 
Emily. I'd skill enough to find a vital spot. 
Do not withdraw it yet — my time is short, 
And I have much to say before I die. 
(^Faintly.) Be gentle with my rabbits when Fm 

gone ; 
Give my canary chickweed now and then. 
... I think there is no more — ah, one last word • — 
{Earnestly) — Warn them they must not cut our 

wedding-cake. 
And then the pastrycook may take it back ! 
Peter {Deeply moved). .Would you had shown 

this thoughtfulness before ! 

[Kneels hy the sofa. 



THE FATAL PIN. 133 

Emily. 'Tis now too late, tand clearly do I see 

That I was never worthy of you, Peter. 

Peter (^gently). 'Tis not for me to contradict 

you now. 
You did your best to be so, Emily ! 
Emily. A blessing on you for those generous 

words ! 
Now tell me, Peter, how is your poor foot ? 
Peter. The agony decidedly abates. 
And I can almost bear a boot again. 
Emily. Then I die happy I . . . Kiss me, Peter 

... ah ! \I)ies. 

Peter. In peace she passed away. I'm glad 

of that. 
Although that peace was purchased by a lie. 
I shall not bear a boot for many days ! 
Thus ends our wedding morn, and she, poor child, 
Has paid the penalty qf heedlessness ! 

\_Qurtain falls., whereupon.^ unless Mr. Punch is 
greatly mistaken, there ivill not he a dry eye in the 
house. 



v. — BRUNETTE AND BLANCHIDINE, 

A MELODRAMATIC DIDACTIC VAUDEVILLE. 

Suggested by " The Wooden Doll and the Wax Doll/' 
by the Misses Jane and Ann Taylor. 

Dramatis Persons. 

Blanchidine / By the celebrated Sisters Stilton, the 
Brunette. y Champion Duettists and Clog-Dancers. 

Fanny Furbelow. By. Miss Sylvia Sealskin (6?/ kind 
permission of The Gayety Management). 

Frank Manly. By Mr. Henry Neville. 

Scene. — A sunny Glade in Kensington Grardens^ 
between the Serpentine and Round Pond. 

Enter Blanchidine and Bkunette, ivith their 
arms thrown affectionately around one another. 
Blanchidine is carrying a large and expression- 
less wooden doll. 

Duet and Step-dance. 

Bl. Oh, I do adore Brunette! (^Dances.^ Tip- 
pity-tappity, tappity-tippity, tippity-tappity, 
tip-tap! 

134 



BRUNETTE AND BLANCUIDINE. 135 

Br. Blanchidine's the sweetest pet! (^Dances.) 
Tippity-tappity, etc. 

Together. 

When the sun is high, 
We come out to ply, 
Nobody is nigh, 
All is mirth and j'y ! 
With a pairosol. 
We'll protect our doll, 
Make a mossy bed 
For her wooden head ! 

[ Combination step-dance^ during which both watch 
their feet with an air of detached and slightly 
amused interest^ as if they belonged to some other 
persons. 

Clickity-clack, clickity-clack, clickity, clickity, 
clickity-clack ; clackity-clickity, clickity- 
clackity, clackity-clickity-cZ<xcA: .' 

\_Repeat ad. lib. 

Bl. (apologetically to audie7ice'). Her taste in 
dress is rather plain! (Dances.} Tippity- 
tappity, etc. 

Br. (in pitying aside). It is a pity she's so 
vain ! (Lances.') Tippity-tappity, etc. 



136 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL, 

Bl. 'Tis a shime to smoile, 

But she's shocking stoyle, 
It is quite a troyal, 
Still — she mikes a foil ! 

Br. Often I've a job 

To suppress a sob, 
She is such a snob, 
When she meets a nob ! 

\^Stej)-da7ice as before. 



[iV. B. — In consideration of the ivell-hnown dij[ 
culty that most popular Variety- Artists experience 
in the metrical delivery of decasyllabic couplets, 
the lines which follow have been written as they 
will most probably be spoken. 

Bl. (looking off with alarm.') Why, here comes 
Fanny Furbelow, a new frock from Paris 
in ! 

She'll find me with Brunette --- it's too embar- 
rassing ! 

[_ Aside. 

(To Beunette.) Brunette, my love, I know siich 

a pretty game we'll play at — 
Poor Timburina's ill, and the seaside she ought 

to stay at. 



BRUNETTE AND BLANCHIDINE. 137 

(The Serpentine's the seaside, let's pretend.) 
And i/ou shall take her there — (hypocritically) 

— you're such a friend ! 
Br. (with simplicity). Oh, yes, that will be 
splendid, Blanchidine, 
And then we can go and have a dip in a bathing- 
machine ! 

[Elan, resigns the wooden doll to Brun., who skips 

off with it, L., as Fanny Furbelow enters r., 
carrying a magnificent wax doll. 

Fanny (languidly). Ah, howdy do — is7iH this 
heat too frightful ? And so you're quite 
alone ? 

Bl. (nervously). Oh, quite — ob yes, I always 
am alone, when there's nobody with me. 

\^Thls is a little specimen of the Lady s humorous 
'-'' gag^'' at tvhich she is justly considered a pro- 
ficient. 

Fanny (draivllng). Delightful! 

When I was wondering, only a little while ago, 

If I should meet a creature that I know ; 

Allow me — my new doll, the Lady Minnie ! 

\_Introducing doll. 

Bl. (rapturously). Oh, what a perfect love ! 

Fanny. She ouo-lit to be — for a o-uinea ! 



138 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC BALL. 

Here, you may nurse her for a little while. 

Be careful, for her frock's the latest style. " 

[^Gives Blan. the wax doll. 

She's the best wax, and has three changes of cloth- 
ing — 

For those cheap wooden dolls I've quite a loathing. 

Bl. (liastily). Oh, so have / — they're not to be 
endured ! 

Re-enter Brunette with the wooden doll, ivhich she 
tries to press upon Blanchidine, much to the 
latter^ s confusion. 

Br. I've brought poor Timburina back, com- 
pletely cured ! 

Why, aren't you pleased ? Your face is looking so 
cloudy ! 

F. (haughtily). Is she a friend of yours — tliis 
little dowdy? \_Sloiu music. 

Bl. (after an internal struggle). Oh, no, what an 
idea ! 

Why, I don't even know her by name ! 

Some vulgar child. ... 

[^Lets the wax doll fall unregarded on the gravel. 

Br. (indignantly). Oh, what a horrid shame ! 

I see now why you sent us to the Serpentine ! 

Bl. (heartlessly). There's no occasion to flare up 
like turpentine. 



BRUNETTE AND BLANCHIDINE, 139 

Br. (^ungrammatically'). I'm not! Disown your 

doll, and thrust me, too, aside ! 
The one thing left for both of us is — suicide ! 
Yes, Timburina, us no more she cherishes — 
{Bitterly}. Well, the Round Pond a handy place 

to perish is ! 

\_Rushes off stage with wooden doll, 
Bl. {making a feeble attempt to foUoiu). Come 

back. Brunette ; don't leave me thus, in 

charity ! 
F. (luith contempt). Well, I'll be off — since you 

seem to prefer vulgarity. 
Bl. No, stay — but — ah, she said — what if she 

meant it? 
F. Not she ! And, if she did, we can't prevent it. 
Bl. (relieved). That's true — we'll play, and think 

no more about her. 
F. (sarcastically). We m.'d.y just manage to get on 

without her ! 
So come — (Perceives doll lying face upwards on 

path.) 
You odious girl, what have you done ? 
Left Lady Minnie lying in the blazing sun ! 
'Twas done on purpose — oh, you thing perfidious! 

\^Sta7nps. 
You knew she'd melt, and get completely hideous ! 



140 ]\IE. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

Don't answer me^ Miss — I wish we'd never met. 
You're only fit for persons like Brunette ! 

\_Plcks up doll^ a7id exit in passion. 

Grand Sensation Descriptive Soliloquy^ hy Blanch- 
IDINE, to Melodramatic Music. 

Bl. Gone ! Ah, I am rightly punished ! What 
would I not give now to have homely little Bru- 
nette, and dear old wooden-headed Timburina back 
again ! She wouldn't melt in the sun. . . . Where 
are they now ? Great Heavens ! that threat — that 
rash resolve. ... I remember all I 'Twas in the 
direction of the Pond they vanished. (^Peeping 
aiixiously hetiveen trees.~) Are they still in sight? 
. . . Yes, I see them. Brunette has reached the 
water's edge. . . . What is she purposing? Now 
she kneels on the rough gravel ; she is making 
Timburina kneel too ! How calm and resolute they 
both appear ! ^Shuddering .') I dare not look 
further — but ah, I must — / must! . . . Horror I 
I saw her boots flash for an instant in the bright 
sunlight : and now the ripples have closed, smiling, 
over her little black stockings I . . . Help! — save 
her, somebody ! — help ! , . . . Joy ! a gentleman 
has appeared on the scene — how handsome, how 
brave he looks I He has taken in the situation at 



BRUNETTE AND BLANCHIDINE. 141 

a glance ! With quiet composure he removes his 
coat — oh, do7i't trouble about folding it up ! — 
and why, whr/ remove your gloves, when there is 
not a moment to be lost? Now, with many in- 
junctions, he entrusts his watch to a bystander, 
who retires, overcome by emotion. And now — 
oh, gallant, heroic soul ! — now he is sending his 
toy-terrier into the seething water. (^Straining 
eagerly forward?) All, the dog paddles bravely 
out — he has reached the spot . . . oh, he has 
passed it ! — he is trying to catch a duck ! Dog, 
dog, 18 this a time for pursuing ducks ? At last he 
understands — he dives . . . he brings up — agony! 
a small tin cup I Again . . . t}ii% time, surely — 
what, only an old pot-hat ! . . . Oh, this dog is a 
fool ! And still the Round Pond holds its dread 
secret ! Once more . . . yes — no, yes, it %% Tim- 
burina.! Thank Heaven, she yet breathes ! But 
Brunette ? Can she have stuck in the mud at the 
bottom ? Ha, she, too, is rescued — saved — ha- 
ha-ha ! — saved, saved, saved ! 

\Swoon% hysterically amid deafening applause. 

Enter Frank Manly supporting Brunette, who 
carries Timburina. 

Bl. (tvildly^. What, do I see you safe, beloved 
Brunette ? 



142 MB. PUNCirS MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

Br. Yes, thanks to his courage, I'm not even ivet! 
Frank (modestly'). Nay, spare your compliments. 

To rescue Beauty, 
When in distress, is every hero's duty! 
Bl. Brunette, forgive — I'm cured of all my folly ! 
Br. (heartily') , Of course I will, my dear, and so 

will dolly ! 

[ Grand Trio and Step-dance^ ivith " tippity-tappity^^'* 
and " clickity-clack " refrain as finale. 



VI. — COMING OP AGE. 

Our present Drama represents an attempt to 
illustrate upon the Music-hall stage the eternal 
truth that race tvill tell in the long run, des[)ite — 
but, on second thoughts, it does not quite prove 
that, though it certainly shows tlie unerring accu- 
racy of parental — at least, that is not exactly its 
tendency, either ; and the fact is that Mr. Punch is 
more than a little mixed himself as to tlie precise 
theory which it is designed to enforce. He hopes, 
however, that, as a realistic study of Patrician life 
and manners, it will possess charms for a demo- 
cratic audience. 

COMING OP AGE. 

A GRAND SOCIAL PSYCHOLOGICAL COMEDY-DRAMA 
IN ONE ACT. 

Dramatis PiajsoNiE. 
Thk Eahl of BuiiNT almond. 
TiiK Countess of Buiintalmond {las wife). 
RoBKiiT Henky Viscount Bueesaye {their .son and heir). 
The Ladv Rose Cakamee (niece to the Earl). 

"1 Travelling as " Tlie Celebrated 



HOUEHOUND 



I Combination Korffdropp Troupe," 

f in 



Mjis. IIorehound . \ .^^ ^^j^^j^. i-gfij^ed and elegant Draw- 
Coetsfoot llouEiiouND J ing-room Entertainment. 
Tenantey. 



143 



144 Mil. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC UALL. 

Scene. — The G-reat Quadrangle of Rardbake Cas- 
tle ; hamiers., mottoes^ decorations.^ etc. On the 
steps., R., the Earl, supported by his ivife., ^on., 
and niece., is discovered in the act of concluding a 
speech to six tenantry., ivho display all the enthu- 
siasm that is reasonably to be expected at ninepence 
a night. 

The Earl (^patting Lord Bullsaye's shoulder'). 
I might say more, gentlemen, in praise of my dear 
son, Lord BuUsaye, here — I might dwell on his 
extreme sweetness, his strongly marked character, 
the variety of his tastes, and the singular attraction 
he has for children of all ages — but I forbear. I 
will merely announce that on this day — the day 
he has selected for attaining his majority — he has 
gratified us all by plighting troth to his cousin, the 
Lady Rose Caramel, with whose dulcet and cling- 
ing disposition he has always possessed the greatest 
natural affinity. [Cheers, 

Lord Bulls aye (aside to Lady R.). Ah, Rose, 
would such happiness could last ! But my heart 
misgives me strangely — why, I know not. 

Lady R. Say not so, dear Bullsaye — have you 
not just rendered me the happiest little Patrician 
in the whole peerage ? 



COMING OF AGE. 145 

Lord B. 'Tis true — and yet, and yet — pooh, 

let me snatch the present hour ! [^Snatches it. 

The Earl. And now, let the Revels commence. 

Enter the Korffdropp Troupe, who give their mar- 
vellous Entertainment.^ entitled^ " The Three Sur- 
prise Packets ; '' after ivhich — 

HoREHOUND. This will conclude the first por- 
tion of our Entertainment, Lords, Ladies, and 
Gentlemen ; and, while my wife and pardner re- 
tires to change her costoom for the Second Part, I 
should be glad of the hoppertoonity of a short pus- 
sonal hexplanation with the noble Herl on my 
right. \_Exit Mrs. Horehound. 

The Earl (^graciously'). I will hear you, fel- 
low ! (^Aside.) Strange how familiar his features 
seem to me 1 

Horeh. The fact is, your Lordship's celebrat- 
ing the coming of hage of the wrong heir. (^Sen- 
sation — i.e.^ the six tenantry shift from one leg to 
the other., and murmur feebly .) Oh, I can prove it. 
Twenty-one years ago — (slow music) — I was in 
your Lordship's service as gamekeeper, 'ead w^hip, 
and liextry waiter. My son and yours was born the 
self-same day, and my hold dutch was selected to 
hact as foster-mother to the youthful lord. Well 



146 MR. PUNCH 'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

— Qells a long, and not eyitirely original, story ; mar- 
vellous resemhlayice hetiveen infayits, only distinguisli- 
able by green and magenta hows, etc., etc.), soon 
after, your Lordship discharged me at a moment's 
notice — 

The Earl (haughtily). I did, upon discover- 
ing that you were in the habit of surreptitiously 
carrying off kitchen-stuff, concealed within your 
umbrella. But proceed with your narration. 

HoREH. I swore to be avenged, and so — 
(common form again ; the shifted hows) — conse- 
quently, as a moment's reflection will convince 
you, the young man on the steps, in the button-' ole 
and tall 'at, is my lawful son, while the real Vis- 
count is — (presenting Coltsfoot, who advances 
modestly on his hands) — 'ere ! 

\_Ileneived sensation. 

The Earl. This is indeed a startling piece of 
intelligence. (To Lord B.) And so, sir, it ap- 
pears that your whole life has been one consistent 
imposition — a gilded lie f 

Lord B. Let my youth and inexperience at the 
time, sir, plead as my best excuse ! 

The E. Nothing can excuse the fact that you 
• — you, a low-born son of the people, have monopo- 
lized the training, the tenderness and education, 



COMING OF AGE. 147 

which were the due of your Patrician foster- 
brother. (jTo Coltsfoot.) Approacli, my in- 
jured, long-lost boy, and tell me how I may atone 
for these years of injustice and neglect I 

Colts. Well, Guv'nor, if you send out for a 
pot o' four arf, it 'ud be a beginning^ like. 

The E. You shall have every luxury that befits 
your rank, but first remove tliat incongruous garb. 

Colts. (Tb Lord B.). These 'ere togs belong to 
you now, young feller, and I reckon exchange ain't 
no robbery. 

Lord B. (with emotion to Countess). Mother, 
can you endure to behold your son in tights and 
spangles on the very day of his majority? 

Countess (coldly). On the contrary, it is my 
wish to see him attired as soon as possible in a 
more appropriate costume. 

Lord B. (to Lady R.). Rose, you., at least, have 
not changed ? Tell me you will love me still, even 
on the precarious summit of an acrobat's pole ! 

Lady Rose (scornfully). Really, the presump- 
tuous familiarity of the lower orders is perfectly 
appalling!. 

The Earl (to Countess, a% Lord B. and 
Coltsfoot retire to exchange costumes). At last, 
Pauline, I understand why I could never feel 



148 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

towards Bullsaye the affection of a parent. Often 
have I reproached myself for a cokbiess I could 
not overcome. 

Countess. And I too ! Nature was too strono- 
for us. But, oh, the joy of recovering our son — 
of finding him so strong, so supple, so agile. 
Never yet has our line boasted an heir who can 
feed himself from a fork strapped onto his dexter 
heel ! 

The E. (luitli emotion^. Our beloved, boneless 
boy! 

[Ile-e7iter Coltsfoot in modern dress, and Lord 
B. in tights. 

Colts. Don't I look slap up — O. K. and no 
mistake ? Oh, I am 'aving a beano ! 

All. What easy gayety and unforced ani- 
mation ! 

The E. My dear boy, let me present you to 
your jiancSe. Rose, my love, this is your legiti- 
mate lover. 

Colts. Oh, all right, I^ve no objections — 
on'y there'll be ructions with the young woman in 
the tight-rope line as I'ye been keepin' comp'ny 
with — that's all ! 

The E. Your foster-brother will act as your 



COMING OF AGE. 149 

substitute there. {Proudly?} My son must make 
no mesalliance ! 

Rose (timidly). And, if it would give you any 
pleasure, I'm sure I could soon learn the tight- 
rope ! 

Colts. Not at your time o' life, Miss, and 
besides, 'ang it, now I'm a lord, I can't have my 
wife doin' nothing low ! 

The E. Spoken like a true Burntalmond! 
And now let the Revels recommence. 

[Re-enter Mrs. Horehound. 
HoREH. (to Lord B.). Now then, stoopid, 
tumble, can't you — what are you 'ere /or .^ 

Lord B. ( to the Earl). Since it is your com- 
mand, I obey, though it is ill tumbling with a 
heavy heart ! [Turns head over heels laboriously. 
Colts. Call that a somersault ? 'Ere, 'old my 
'at (giving tall hat to Lady R.) I'H show yer 'ow 
to do a turn. \_Throivs a triple somersault. 

All. What condescension ! How his aristo- 
cratic superiority is betrayed, even in competition 
with those to the manner born ! 

Mrs. Horeh. (still in ignorance of the trans- 
formation). Halt ! I have kept silence till now 

even from my husband, but the time has come 

when I must speak. Think you that if he were 



150 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

indeed a lord, he could turn such somersaults as 
those? No — no I will reveal all. (^Tells same old 
story — except that she herself from ambitious 7notives 
transposed the infants' bows'). Now, do with me 
what you will ! 

HoREH. Confusion, so my ill-judged action did 
but redress the wrong 1 designed to effect! 

The E. (^annoyed). This is a serious matter, 
reflecting as it does upon the legitimacy of my 
lately recovered son. What proof have you, 
woman, of your preposterous allegation ? 

Mrs. H. None, my lord, — but these — 

[Exhibits tivo faded bunches of ribbon. 

The E. I cannot resist such overwhelming 
evidence, fight against it as I may. 

Lord B. (triumphantly). And so — oh. Father, 
Mother, Rose — dear, dear Rose — I am no acro- 
bat, after all ! - 

The E. (sternly). Would you were anything 
half so serviceable to the community, sir ! I have 
no superstitious reverence for rank, and am, I 
trust, sufficiently enlightened to discern worth and 
merit — even beneath the spangled vest of the 
humblest acrobat. Your foster-brother, brief as 
our acquaintance has been, has already endeared 
himself to all hearts, while you have borne a 



COMING OF AGE. 151 

trifling reverse of fortune with sullen discontent 
and conspicuous incapacity. He has perfected 
himself in a lofty and distinguished profession 
during years spent by t/ou, sir, in idly cumbering 
the earth of Eton and Oxford. Shall I allow him 
to suffer by a purely accidental coincidence ? 
Never ! I owe him reparation, and it shall be paid 
to the uttermost penny. From this day I adopt 
him as my eldest son, and the heir to my earldom, 
and all other real and personal effects. See, 
Robert Henry, that you treat your foster-brother 
as your senior in future ! 

Colts, {to Lord B.). Way-oh, ole matey, I 
don't bear no malice, / don't ! Give us your dooks. 

[ Offering hand. 

The C. Ah, Bull say e, try to be worthy of such 
generosity ! 

[Lord B. grasps Coltsfoot's Jiand in silence. 

Lady Rose. And pray, understand that, 
whether Mr. Coltsfoot be viscount or acrobat, 
it can make no difference whatever to the dis- 
interested affection with which I have lately 
learnt to reo^ard him. 
\_G-ives her hand to Coltsfoot, luho squeezes it with 

ardor. 

Colts, ("pleasantly^. Well, Father, Mother, 



152 PUNCirS 310 DEL MUSIC HALL. 

your noble Ileiisliip and Lady, foster-Lrotlier 
lUillsayo, and my pretty little sweet'ait 'ere, wliat 
do you all say to goin' inside and shunting a little 
garbage, and slufting a drop or so of lotion, eh? 

The E. a most sensible suggestion, my boy. 
Let us make these ancient walls the scene of the 
blithest — ahem ! — heano they have ever yet 
beheld ! 

Cheers from tena/ntry^ as tJie Eakl leads the ivay 
into the Castle with Mrs. Horehound, followed 

hi/ HOREHOUND with the CoUNTESS and COLTS- 
FOOT with Lady Rose, Lord Bullsaye, dis- 
eomfited and abashed, entering last as Curtain 
falls. 



VII. — RECLAIMED; 

OR, HOW LITTLE ELFIE TAUGHT HER GRAND- 
MOTHER. 

CHAKACTEIIS. 

Lady Belledame (a Dowager of the deepest dye). 

Monkshood {her Steward and confidential Minion). 

Little Elfie {an Angel Child). Tliis part has been specially 
constructed for tliat celebrated Infant Actress, Banjoist, and 
Variety Comedienne, Miss Biudie Callowcijick. 

Scene — The Pa7ielled Room at Nightshade Hall. 

Lady Belledame (discovered preparing parcels^. 
Old and unloved! — yes the longer I live, the 
more plainly do I perceive tliat I am not a popular 
old woman. Have I not acquired the reputation 
in the county of being a witch? My neighbor, 
Sir Vevey Long, asked me publicly only the other 
day " when I would like my broom ordered," and 
that minx. Lady Violet Powdray, has pointedly 
mentioned old cats in my hearing ! Pergament, 
my family lawyer, has declined to act for me any 
longer, merely because Monkshood rack-rented 
some of the tenants a little too energetically in 

153 



154 MR. PUNCH'S 310 DEL MUSIC HALL. 

the Torture Chamber — as if in these hard times 
one Avas not justified, in putting the screw on ! 
Then the viUagers scowl when I pass ; the very 
children shrink from me — \_A childish voice out- 
side windoiv^ " Yah, 'oo sold 'erself to Old Bogie 
for a pound o' tea an' a set o' noo teeth ? "] — 
that is, when they do not insult me by suggestions 
of bargains that are not even businesslike ! No 
matter — I will be avenged upon them all — ay, 
all! 'Tis Christmas-time — the season at which 
sentimental fools exchange gifts and good wishes. 
For once I, too, will distribute a few seasonable 
presents. . . . (^Insjyectinr/ parcels.^ Are my ar- 
rangements complete ? The bundle of choice 
cigars, in each of which a charge of nitro-glycerine 
has been dexterously inserted? The lip-salve, 
made up from my own prescription with corrosive 
sublimate by a venal chemist in the vicinity ? The 
art flower-pot, containing a fine specimen of the 
Upas plant, swathed in impermeable sacking? 
The sweets compounded with sugar of lead ? The 
packet of best ratsbane ? Yes, nothing has been 
omitted. Now to summon my faithful Monks- 
hood. . . . Ha ! he is already at hand. 

[ Chord as Monkshood enters. 

Monkshood. Your Ladyship, a child, whose 



RECLAIMED. 155 

sole luggage is a small bandbox and a large banjo,' 
is without, and requests tlie favor of a personal 
interview. 

Lady B. (reproachfully) . And you, wlio have 
been with me all these years, and know my ways, 
omitted to let loose the bloodhounds ? You grow 
careless, Monkshood ! 

Monks, (tvounded). Your Ladyship is unjust — 
I did unloose the bloodhounds ; but the ferocious 
animals merely sat up and begged. The child had 
took the precaution to provide lierself with a bun ! 

Lady B. No matter, she must be removed — I 
care not how. 

Monks. There may be room for one more — a 
little one — in the old well. The child mentioned 
that she was your Ladyship's granddaughter, but I 
presume that will make no difference ? 

Lady B. (disquieted')'. What I — then she must 
be the child of my only son Poldoodle, whom, for 
refusing to cut off the entail, I had falsely accused 
of adulterating milk, and transported beyond the 
seas ! She comes hither to denounce and reproach 
me ! Monkshood, she must not leave this place 
alive — you hear? 

Monks. I require no second bidding — ha, the 
child . . . she comes ! 



156 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL, 

[Cliord. Little Elfie trips in ivitli touching self- 
confidence. 

Elfie (m a charming little Cockney accent). 
Yes, Grandma, it's me — little Elfie, come all the 
way from Australia to see you, because I thought 
you must be sow lowuly all by yourself ! My Papa 
often told me what a long score lie owed you, and 
how he hoped to pay you off if he lived. But he, 
went out to business one day — Pa was a bush- 
ranger, you know, and worked — oh, so hard ; and 
never came back to his little Elfie, so poor little 
Elfie has come to live with you ! 

Monks. Will you have the child removed now, 
my Lady ? 

IjADY ^. (itndecidcdlij'). Not now — not yet; I 
have other Avork for you. These Christmas gifts, 
to be distributed amongst my good friends and ■ 
neighbors (Jianding parcels). First, this bundle of 
cigars to Sir Vevey Long, with my best wishes 
that such a connoisseur in tobacco may find them 
sufficiently strong. The salve for Lady Violet 
Powdray, Avith my love, and it should be rubbed 
on the last thing at night. The plant you Avill 
take to the little Pergaments — 'tAAdll serve them 
for a Christmas tree. This packet to be diluted in 
a barrel of beer, Avhich you will see broached upon 



RECLAIMED. 157 

the village green ; these sweetmeats for distribution 
among the most deserving of the school-children. 

Elfie (thr Giving her arms around Lady B.'s 
neclc). I do like you, Grandma, you have such a 
kind face ! And oh, what pains you must have 
taken to find something that will do for everybody ! 

Lady B. (disengaging herself peevishly^. Yes, 
yes, child. I trust that what I have chosen will 
indeed do for everybody, — but I do not like to be 
messed about. Monkshood, you know what you 
have to do. 

Elfie. Oh, I am sure he does. Grandma ! See 
how benevolently he smiles. You're such a good 
old man, you will take care that all the poor people 
are fed, wont you ? 

Monks, (tvith a sinister smile^. Ah ! Missie, 
I've 'elped to settle a many people's 'ash in my 
time ! 

Elfie (innocently'). What, do they all get hash? 
How nice ! I like hash, — but what else do you 
give them? 

Monks, (grimly). Gruel, Missie. (Aside.) I 
must get out of this, or this innocent child's prattle 
will unman me ! \_Exit ivith parcels. 

Elfie. You seem so sad and troubled, Grand- 
ma. Let me sing you one of the songs with 



158 MB. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

which I drew a smile from poor dear Pa in hap- 
pier days. 

Lady B. No, no, some other time. QAside.^ 
Pshaw ! why should I dread the effect of her sim- 
ple melodies ? QAloud.') Sing, child, if you will. 

Elfie. How glad I -am that I brought my 
banjo ! \_Sing§. 

Bar is a liibly yaller gal dat tickles me to deff ; 
SJiell dance de room oh darkies down., and take away 

deir hreff. 
Wlien she sits doivn to supper., ehery colored gemple- 

man., 
As she gets her upper lip o''er a plate o' '''•possom 

dip.f''"' cries., 
" Woa, Lucindy Ann ! " (Chorus, dear Granny !) 

Chorus. 

Woa, Lucindy ! Woa, Lucindy ! Woa, Lucindy 

Ann I 
At de rate dat you are stuffin., you will nehher leave 
us nuffin; so ivoa, Miss Sindy Ann! 

To Lady B. (who, after joining in chorus with 
deep emotion., has hurst into tears^. Why, you are 
weeping., dear Grandmother ! 



RECLAIMED. 159 

Lady B. Nay, 'tis nothing, child — but have 
you no songs which are less sad? 

Elfie. Oh, yes, I know plenty of plantation 
ditties more cheerful than that. (Sings.^ 

■ Oh, I hear a gentle ivhisper from de days oh long ago. 

When I used to he a happy darkie slave. 

[ Trump-a-trump ! 

But now Tse got to lahor wif the shovel an'' de hoe — 

For ole Massa lies a sleepin in his grave ! 

[ Trump-trump ! 
Chorus. 

Poor ole Massa! Poor ole Massa! (Pianissimo.) 
Poor ole Massa, that I nehher more shall see! 

He was let off hy de jury, Way doivn m old Missouri 
— But dey lynched him on a persiiiwion-tree. 

Elfie. You smile at last, dear Grandma ! I 
would sing to you again, but I am so very, very 
sleepy ! 

Lady B. Poor child, you have had a long jour- 
ney. Rest a while on this couch, and I will arrange 
this screen so as to protect your slumbers. 

[Leads little Elfie to couch. 

Elfie (^sleepily}. Thanks, dear Grandma, thanks. 
. . . Now L shall go to sleep, and dream of you, 
and the dogs, and angels. I so often dream about 
angels — but that is generally after supper, and 



10 MR. PUNCH'S MOB EL MUSIC HALL. 

to-niglit I have had no supper. . . . But never 
mind. . . . Good-night, Grannie, good-night . . . 
goo'ni' . . . goo . . . goo ! 

l^SIie sinks softhj to sleep. 

Lady B. And I was about to set the blood- 
hounds upon this little sunbeam ! 'Tis long since 
these grim walls have echoed strains so sweet as 
hers. (^Croons.) '' Woa, Lucindy," etc. "Dey 
tried him by a Jury, way down in ole Missouri, 
an' dey hung him to a possumdip tree ! " ( G-oes 
to couch, and gazes on the little sleeper.^ How 
peacefully she slumbers ! What a change has 
come over me in one short hour ! — my withered 
heart is sending up green shoots of tenderness, of 
love, and hope ! Let me try henceforth to be 
worthy of this dear child's affection and respect. 
(^Turns, and sees Monkshood.) Ha, Monkshood! 
Then there is time yet ! Those parcels . . . quick, 
quick ! — the parcels ! — 

Monks, (impassively^. Have been left as you 
instructed, my Lady, 
[Chord. Lady B. staggers hack, gasping, into chair. 

Little Elfie aivakes behind screen, and rubs her 

eyes. 

Lady B. (m a hoarse ivhisper). You — you have 
left the parcels . . . all — all ? Tell me — how 



RECLAIMED. 161 

were they received? Speak low — I would not 
that yonder child should awake and hear ! 

Little Elfie (helmid the screen., very ivide awake., 
indeed^). Dear, good old Grannie — slie would 
conceal her generosity — even from me ! (^Loudly.') 
She little thinks that I am overhearing all ! 

Monks. I could have sworn I heard whispering. 

Lady B. Nay, 3^ou are mistaken — -'twas but 
the wind in the old wainscot. (^Aside.^ He is 
quite capable of destroying that innocent child ; 
but old and attached servant as he is, there are 
liberties I still know how to forbid. (^To M). Your 
story — quick ! 

Monks. First, I delivered the cigars to Sir 
Vevey Long, whom I found under his veranda. 
He seemed surprised and gratified by the gift, 
selected a weed, and was proceeding to light it, 
whilst he showed a desire to converse familiarly 
with me. 'Astily excusing myself, I drove away, 
when — 

Lady B. When tvhat? Do not torture a 
wretched old woman ! 

Monks. When I heard a loud report behind 
me, and, in the portion of a brace, two waistcoat- 
buttons, and half a slipx)er, which hurtled past my 
ears, I recognized all that was mortal of the late 



162 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

Sir Vevey. You mixed them cigars uncommon 
strong, m'Lady. 

Elfie (aside). Can it be? But no, no. I will 
not believe it. I am sure that dear Granny meant 
no harm ! 

Lady B. (lolth a grim jjride she cannot wholly re- 
py^ess). I have devoted some study to the subject 
of explosives. 'Tis another triumph to the Anti- 
tobacconists. And what of Lady Violet Powdray 
— did she apply tlie salve ? 

Monks. Judging from the 'eartrendiug 'owls 
which proceeded from Carmine Cottage, the salve 
was producing the desired result. Her Ladyship, 
'owever, terminated her sufferings somewhat pre- 
matoor by jumping out of a top winder just as I 
w^as taking my departure — 

Lady B. She should have died hereafter — but 
no matter . . . and the Upas-tree ? — 

Monks. Was presented to the Pergaments, 
who unpacked it, and loaded its branches with toys 
and tapers ; after which Mr. Pergament, Mrs. P., 
and all the little Pergaments joined 'ands, and 
danced round it in light'arted glee. (^In a sombre 
tone.') They little knoo.as how it was their dance 
of death ! 

Lady B. That knowledge will come ! And 
the beer, Monkshood — ^^you saw it broached ? 



RECLAIMED. 163 

Monks. Upon the village green ; the mortality 
is still spreading, it being round impossible to undo 
the knots in whicli the victims have tied them- 
selves. The sweetmeats likewise were distributed, 
and the floor of the liinfant-scliool now resembles 
one vast fly-paper. 

Lady B. (with a touch of remorse^. The chil- 
dren too ! Was not my little Elfie once an infant? 
Ah me, ah me ! 

Elfie (aside}. Once — but that was long, 
long ago. And, oh, how disappointed 1 am in poor 
dear Grandmamma ! 

Lady B. Monkshood, you should not have 
done these things — you should have saved me 
from myself. You must have known how greatly 
all this would increase my unpopularity in the 
neighborhood. 

Monks, (sulkily). And this is my reward for 
obejang orders ! Take care, my Ladj^ It suits 
you now to throw me aside like a — (casting about 
for an original simile) — like a old glove, because 
this innocent grandchild of yours has touched 
your flinty 'art. But where will you be when she 
learns ? — 

Lady B. (in agony). Ah, no, Monkshood, good, 
faithful Monkshood, she must never know that I 



164 Mil. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

Think, Moiiksliood, you woukl not tell her that 
the Grandmother to whom she looks np with such 
touching, childlike love, was a — homicide — you 
would not do that ? 

Monks. Some would say even 'omicide was 
not too hlack a name for all you've done. (Lady 
Belledame shudders.} 1 might tell Miss Eltie 
how you've bloAved up a live Baronet, corrosive 
sublimated a gentle Lady, honly for 'aving, in a 
moment of candor, called you a hold cat, and 
distributed pison in a variety of forms about this 
smiling village ; and if that don't inspire her with 
distrust, I don't know the nature of children, that's 
all ! I might tell her, I say, and, if Fm to keep 
my mouth shut, I shall expect it to be considered 
in my Avages. 

. Lady B. I knew you had a good heart ! I will 
pay you anything — anything provided you shield 
my guilt from her . . . wait, you shall have gold, 
gold. Monkshood, gold ! 

[Chord. Little Elfie suddenly comes from behind 
screen ; limelight on her. The other two shrink 
hack. 

Elfie. Do not give that bad old man money, 
Grandmother, for it will only be wasted. 



RECLAUIED. 165 

Lady B. Speak, child! — how much do you 
know ? 

Elfie. All! 

\_Chord. Lady B. collapses on chair. 

Lady B. (tvith an effort^. And now, Elfie, that 
you know, you scorn and hate your poor old 
Grandmother — is it not so ? 

Elfie. It is wrong to hate one's Grandmother, 
whatever she does. At first when I heard, I was 
very, very sorry. I did think it was most unkind 
of you. But now, oh, I cant believe that you had 
not some good, wise motive, in acting as you did ! 

Lady B. (in conscience-stricken aside^. Even 

this cannot shatter her artless faith. . . . Oh, 

, wretch, wretch ! [ Covers her face. 

Monks. Motive — I believe you there, Missie. 
Why, she went and insured all their lives afore- 
hand, she did. 

Lady B. Monkshood, in pity hold your peace ! 

Elfie (her face beaming'). I knew it — I was 
sure of it ! Oh, Granny, my dear, kind old 
Granny, you insured their lives first, so that no 
real harm could possibly happen to them — oh, I 
am so happy ! 

Lady B. (aside}. What shall I say? Merciful 
Powers, what shall I say to her ? 

[^Disturbed sounds ivithout. 



166 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

MoxKS. I don't know what you'd better say., 
but I can tell you wliat your Ladyship had better 
do — and that is, take your 'ook while you can. 
Even now the outraged populace approaches, to 
wreak a hawful vengeance upon your guilty 'ed ! 

[Melodrafnatic music. 

Lady B. ^distractedly). A mob ! I cannot 
face them — they will tear me limb from limb. 
At my age 1 could not survive such an indignity 
as that! Hide me, Monkshood — help me to 
escape I 

Monks. There is a secret underground passage, 
known only to myself, communicating with the 
nearest railway station. I will point it out, and 
personally conduct your Ladyship — for a consid- 
eration — one thousand pounds down. 

[^The noise increases. 

Elfie. No, Granny, don't trust him ! Be calm 
and brave. Await the mob here. Leave it all to 
me. I will explain everything to them — how you 
meant no ill, — how, at the very time they thought 
you were meditating an injury, you were actually 
spending money in insuring all their lives. When 
I tell them that — ~ 

Monks. Ah, you tell 'em that, and see. It's 
too late now — they are here ! 



RECLAIMED. 167 

ISJiouts without. Lady B. crouches on floor. 

Little Elfie (joes to the window, throivs open the 

shutters., and stands on balcony in her fluttering 

white rohe and the limelight. 

Elfie. Yes, tliey are here. Why, they are 
carrying torches ! — (Lady B. groans^ — and ban- 
ners, too ! I think they have a band. . . . Who is 
that tall, stout gentleman, in the white hat, on 
horseback, and the lady in a pony-trap, with, oh, 
such a beautiful complexion ! There is an inscrip- 
tion on one of the flags — I can read it quite 
plainly, " Thanks to the generous Donor ! " (That 
must be you, Grandmother!) And there are chil- 
dren who dance, and scatter flowers. They are ask- 
ing for a speech. (^Speaking off.^ " If you please, 
Ladies and Gentlemen, my Grandmamma is not at 
all Avell, but she wishes me to say she wishes you 
a Merry Christmas, and is very glad you all like 
your presents so much. Good-by, good-hj I " 
(^Returning down Stage.) Now they have gone 
away. Granny. . . . They did look so grateful! 

Lady B. (hewildered). What is this ! Sir 
Yevey, Lady Yiolet, — alive, well ? This deputa- 
tion of gratitude ? Am I mad, dreaming — or 
what does it all mean ? 

Monks, (doggedly). It means that the sight of 



108 MIL PUNCirS MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

this 'eve angel cliild recalled me to a sense of what 
I niio-lit 1)0 exposin' mj^self to by carrying out your 
Ladyship's commands ; and so I took the liberty 
of substitootin gifts more calculated to inspire 
gratitude in Iheir recipients — that's what it 
means. 

Lady B. Wrote] i ! — then you have disobeyed 
me ? You leave this day montli ! 

Ellme (^pleadmgly'). Nay, Grandmother, bear 
with him, for has not his disobedience spared you 
from acts that you might some day have regretted? 
. . . There, Mr. Uutler, (iranny forgives you — 
see, she holds out her hand, and here's mine ; and 
now — 

TjAdy B. (^smiling tenderhj^. Now you shall 
si no- us '' Woa Lucinda .^" 

[Little ILi^FlE fetches he?' banjo, and sings, " Woa, 
Lue'mda ! " her Grandmother and the aged 
STEViAUD, Joining in the dance and chorus, and 
emhracing the child, to form picture as Curtain 
falls. 



VIIL— JACK PARKER; 

OR, THE BULL WHO KNEW HIS BUSINESS. 

ClIAUACTKKS. 

Jack Paiikicu ("lua-s a cruel ho//, For }nhchief was his sole 

emploi/.'" — Vide Miss Jane Taylok.) 
Miss Lydia Banks (" though very young, Will never do 

vohaVs rude or wrong.'" — Ditto.) 

Fa KMKK Banks. . . ) 

f By tlie Brothers Guiffitiis. 
Fahmek Banks's Bull ) 

Chorus of Farm- Hands. 

Scene. — A farmyard. K. a stall from wldeli the 
head of the Bull is visible above the half-door. 
Enter Faiunieii Banks tvltJi a cud<jel. 

Farmer B. (moodily'). When roots n^ro quiet, and 

cereals are dull, 
I vent my irritation on the Bull. 

[We have Miss Taylor's own authority for this 
rhyme. 

Come hup, you beast! 

[Opens stall and flourishes cudgel. The Bidl comes 
forward with an air of deliberate defiance. 

109 



170 3IR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

Oh, turning narsty, is he ? 

[AjjologeticaUi/ to Bull. 
Another time will do ! I see you're busy ! 

[ The Bull, after some consideration., decides to accept 
this retractation., and retreats with dignity to his 
stall., the door of ivhich he ca.refully fastens after 
him. Exit Farmer Banks, l., as Lydia Banks 
enters R. accompanied hy Chorus. The Bull ex- 
hibits the liveliest interest in her proceedi^iys, as he 
looks 071, ivith his forelegs folded easily upon the 
top of the door. 

Song. — Lydia Banks (in Polka time). 

I'm the child by Miss Jane Taylor sung ; 
Unnaturall}^ good for one so young — 
A pattern for the people that I go among, 
With my moral little tags on the tip of my tongue. 
And I often feel afraid that I sha'n't live long, 
For I never do a thing that's rude or wrong ! 
Chorus {to ivhich the Bull heats time). As a general 

rule, one doesn'^t live long. 
If you never do a thing that's rude or wrong ! 

Second., Verse. ' 
My words are all with wisdom fraught, 
To make polite replies I've sought ; 



JACK PARKER. 171 

And learned by independent thought, 
That a pinafore, inked, is good for nought. 
So wonderfully well have I been taught, 
That I turn my toes as children ought ! 

Chorus (to wliicli the Bull dances^. This moral 

lesson slie's been taught — 
She turns her toes as children ought ! 
Lydia (sweetly'). Yes, I'm the Farmer's daughter 

— Lydia Banks ; 
No person ever caught me playing pranks ! 
I'm loved by all the live-stock on the farm, 

[^Ironical a2:)2:)lause f?'om the Bull. 

Pigeons I've plucked will perch upon my arm, 
And pigs at my approach sit up and beg. 

\_BLcsiness hij Bull. 

For me the partial peacock saves his Qgg-, 
No sheep e'er snaps if /attempt to touch her. 
Lambs like it when I lead them to the butcher ! 
Each morn I milk my rams beneath the shed. 
While rabbits flutter twittering round my head, 
And, as befits a dairj^-farmer's daughter. 
What milk I get I supplement with water. 

[A huge Shadoiv is thrown on the road outside ; 
Lydia starts. 



172 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

Wliose shadow is it makes the highway darker? 
That bullet head ! .those ears ! it is — Jack Parker ! 

\_ Chord. The Chorus flee in dismay.^ as Jack 
enters ivith a reckless sivagger. 

Song. — Jack Parkee. 

I'm loafing about, and I very much doubt 
If my excellent Ma is aware that I'm out ; 
My time I employ in attempts to annoy, 
And Fm not what you'd call an agreeable boy ! 

I shoe the cats with walnut-shells ; 

Tin cans to curs I tie ; 
Ring furious knells at front-door bells — 

Then round the corner fly ! 
'Neath donkeys' tails I fasten furze, 

Or timid horsemen scare ; 
If chance occurs, I stock with burrs 

My little sister's hair ! 

\_The Bull shakes his head reprovingly. 

Such tricks give me joy without any pJloy, 
But they do not denote an agreeable boy ! 

[As Jack Parkee, concludes., the Bull ducks cau- 
tiously helo'W the half-door., ivhile Lydia conceals 
herself behind the inimp^ L. c. 



JACK PARKER. 173 

Jack (wandering about stage discontentedly). I 
thought at least there 'd be some beasts to 
bado-er here ! 

Call tliis a farm — there ain't a blooming spadger 
here ! 
S^Afproaclies stall. Bull raises head suddenly. 

A bull ! This is a lark I've long awaited I 

He's in a stable, so he should be baited ! 

[The Bull shows symptoms of acute depression at this 
jeu de mots ; Lydia comes forward indignantly. 

Lydia. I canH stand by and see that poor bull 

suffer ! 
Excitement's sure to make his beef taste touofher ! 
[The Bull emphatically corroborates this statement. 
Be warned by Miss Jane Taylor ; fractured skulls 
Invariably come from teasing bulls I 
So let that door alone, nor lift the latchet ; 
For if the bull gets out — -why, then you'll catch it! 
Jack. A fractured skull? Yah, don't believe a 

word of it ! 

\_Raises latchet: chord ; Bidl comes slowly out., and 

crouches ominously ; Jack retreats^ and takes 

refuge on top of pump ; the Bull., after scratching 

. his hack with his off foreleg^ makes a sudden rush 

at Lydia. 



174 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL, 

Lydia (as s7ie evades it^. Here, help ! — it's chas- 
ing me — it's too absurd of it ! 
Go away, Bull — with me you liave no quarrel ! 

\_TJie Bull intimates that he is acting from a deep 
sense of duty. 

Lydia (impatiently~) . You stupid thing, you're 

ruining the moral ! 

[The Bull persists obstinately in his pursuit. 
Jack (^from top of pumnp'). Well dodged. Miss 

Banks ! although the Bull I'll back ! 

\_Enter Farm-hands. 
Lydia. Come quick — this Bull's mistaking me 

for Jack ! 
Jack. He knows his business best, I shouldn't 

wonder. 
Farm-hands (philosophically} . He ain't the sort 

of Bull to make a blunder. 

\_They loolc on. 
Lydia (^panting'). Such violent exercise Avill soon 

exhaust me ! 

\_The Bull comes behind her. 
Oh, Bull, it is unkind of you . . . you've tossed me ! 

\_Falls on ground^ while the Bull stands over her, in 
readiness to give the coup de grace ; Lydia calls 
for help. 



JACK FARKER. 175 

A Faem-hand (encouragingly^. Nay, Miss, he 

seems moor sensible nor surly — 
He knows as how good children perish earlj^ ! 
[ The Bull nods in acknotvledgment that he is at last 
understood^ and slaps his chest luith his forelegs. 

Lydia. Bull, I'll turn naughty, if you'll but be 

lenient ! 
Goodness, I see, is sometimes mconvenient. 
I promise you henceforth I'll try., at any rate, 
To act like children who are unregenerate ! 
\_The Bull., after turning this over, decides to accept 

a compromise. 
Jack. And, Lydia, when you ready for a lark 

are. 
Just give a chyhike to your friend — Jack Parker ! 

\_They shake hands warmly. 

Finale. 
Lydia. I thought to slowly fade away so calm 
and bepvutiful. 
(Though I didn't mean to go just yet) ; 
But you get no chance for pathos when you're 
chivied by a bull ! 
(Though I thought I wouldn't go just yet.) 
For I did feel so upset, when I found that all you 
get 



176 MB. PUNCH \S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

By the exercise of virtue, is that bulls will come 
and hurt you ! 
That I thought I wouldn't go just yet ! 

Chorus. 

We hear with some regret, 

That she doesn't mean to go just yet. 

But a Bull with horns that hurt you 

Is a poor return for virtue. 

So she's wiser not to go just yet ! 

\^The Bull rises on his hindlegs, and gives aforehoof 
each to Lydia and Jack, who dance wildly round 
and round as the Curtain falls. 

[N. B. — Music-hall Managers are warned that 
the morality of this particular Drama may possibly 
be called in question by some members of the 
L. C. C. 



IX.— UNDER THE HARROW. 

A CONVENTIONAL COMEDY-MELODRAMA, IN 
TWO ACTS. 

Characters. 

Sir Poshbury Puddock (a haughty and high-minded Bar- 
onet). 
Verbena Puddock {his Daughter). 
Lord Blesiiugii (her Lover). 
Spiker {a needy and unscrupulous adventurer). 
Blethers {an ancient and attached Domestic). 

ACT I. 

Scene. — The Morning Room at Natterjack Hall^ 
Toadley-le-Hole ; large ivindow open at hack., with 
heavy p7^acticable sash. 

Enter Blethers. 

Blethers. Sir Poshbury's birthday to-day — • 
his birthday ! — and the gentry giving of him 
presents. Oh, Lor! if they only knew what/ 
could tell 'em ! . . . Ah ! and must tell, too, before 
long — but not yet — not yet ! \^Exit. 

177 



178 MU. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

Enter Lokd Bleshugh and Verbena. 

Verb. Yes, Papa is forty to-day (innocently') ; 
fancy living to that age I The tenants have pre- 
sented him with a handsome jar of mixed pickles, 
with an appropriate inscription. Papa is loved 
and respected by every one. And I — well, I 
have made him a little housewife, containing 
needles and thread. . . . See ! \_Slioivs it. 

Lord Blesh. (tenderly). I say, I — I wish you 
would make me a little housewife ! 
\_Comedy love-dialogue omitted owing to luant of 

space. 

Verb. Oh, do look ! — there's papa crossing 
the lawn with, oh, such a horrid man folloAving 
him ! 

Lord B. Regular bounder. Shocking bad 
hat ! 

Verb. Not so bad as his boots, and tliey are 
not so bad as his face ! Why doesn't Papa order 
him to go away? Oh, he is actually inviting him 
in! 

Enter Sir Poshbury, gloomy and constrained., 
■ luith Spiker, who is jaunty and somewhat over 

familiar. 

Spiker (sitting on the piano^ and dusting his 
hoots ivith his handkerchief). Cosey little shanty 
you've got here, Puddock — very tasty ! 



UNDER THE HARROW. 179 

Sm P. (with a gulp'). I am — ha — delighted 
that you approve of it ! Ah, Verbena ! 

[Kisses her on forehead. 

Spiker. Your daughter, eh? Pooty gah In- 
troduce me. 

[Sir Posh, introduces him — with an effort. 

Verb, (coldly). How do you do? Papa, did 
you know that the sash-line of this window was 
broken ? If it is not mended, it will fall on some- 
body's head, and perhaps kill him I 

Sir p. (absently). Yes — yes, it shall be at- 
tended to ; but leave us, my child, go. Bleshugh, 
this — -er — gentleman and I have business of 
importance to discuss. 

Spiker. Don't let us drive you away, Miss; 
your Pa and me are only talking over old times, 
that's all — eh, Posh ? 

Sir p. (in a tortured aside). Have a care, sir, 
don't drive me too far! (To Verb.). Leave us, 
I say. (Lord B. and Verb, go out, raisi?ig their 
eyehroius.) Now, sir, what is this secret you pro- 
fess to have discovered? 

Spiker. Oh, a mere nothing. (Takes out a 
cigar.) Got a light about you? Thanks. Per- 
haps you don't recollect twenty-seven years ago 
this very day, travelling from Edgware Poad to 
Baker Street, by the Underground Railway ? 



180 ME. PUNCH'S MODEL 3IVSIC HALL. 

Sir p. Perfectly ; it was my thirteenth birth- 
day, and I celebrated the event by a visit to 
Madame Tussaud's. 

Spiker. Exactly ; it was your thirteenth birth- 
day, and you travelled second-class with a half- 
ticket — (ineaniiigly^ — on your thirteenth birth- 
day. 

Sir p. (terribly agitated). Fiend that you are, 
how came you to learn this ^ 

Spiker. Very simple. I was at that time in 
the temporary position of ticket-collector at Baker 
Street. In the exuberance of boyhood, you cheeked 
me. I swore to be even with you some day. 

Sir p. Even if — if your accusation were 
well-for.nded, how are you goiug to prove it? 

Sp. Oh, that's easy ! I preserved the half- 
ticket, on the chance that I should require it as 
evidence hereafter. 

Sir p. (aside). And so the one error of an 
otherwise blameless boyhood has found me out — 
at last I (To Spiker.) I fear you not; my 
•crime — if crime indeed it was — is surely con- 
doned by twenty-seven long years of unimpeach- 
able integrity ! 

Sp. By-laws are By-laws, old Buck ! there's no 
Statute of Limitations in criminal offences that 



UNDER THE IIARBOW. 181 

ever J heard of! Nothing can alter the fact that 
you, being turned thirteen, obtained a half-ticket 
by a false representation that you were under age. 
A line from me, even now, denouncing you to 
the Traffic Superintendent, and I'm very much 
afraid — 

Sir p. (turitJiing') . Spiker, my — my dear 
friend, you won't do that, you won't expose me ? 
Think of my age, my position, my daughter ! 

Sp. Ah, now you've touched the right chord ! 
I ivas thinking of your daughter — a nice lady- 
like gal — I don't mind telling you she fetched 
me, sir, at the first glance. Give me her hand, and 
I burn the compromising half-ticket before your 
eyes on our return from church after the wedding. 
Come, that's a fair offer ! 

Sm P. (indignantly'). My child, the ripening 
apple of my failing eye, to be sacrificed to a black- 
mailing blackguard like you ! Never while I 
live! 

Sp. Just as jovl please ; and, if you will 
kindly oblige me Avith writing materials, I will 
just drop a line to the Traffic Superintendent — 

Sm P. (hoar sell/). No, no, not that. . . . Wait, 
listen ; I — I will speak to my daughter. I prom- 
ise nothing ; but if her heart is still her own to 



182 Mli. PUNCH'S MODEL 21 U SIC HALL. 

give, she may (mind, I do say she will'), be in- 
duced to link her lot to yours, though I shall not 
attempt to influence her in any wa}^ — in an?/ wa}^. 

Sp. Well, you know your own business best, 
old Cockalorum. Here comes the young lady, so 
I'll leave you to manage this delicate affair alone. 
Ta-ta. I sha'n't be far off. 

\_Siuagge7's insolently out as Verb, enters. 

Sir p. My child, I have just received an offer 
for your hand. I know not if you will consent ? 

Verb. I can guess who has made that offer, 
and why. I consent with all my heart, dear Papa. 

Sir p. Can I trust my ears! You consent? 
Noble girl ! \^IIe emhi^aces lier. 

Verb. I was quite sure dear Bleshugh meant 
to speak, and I do love him very much. 

Sir p. (^starting~) . It is not Lord Bleshugh, my 
child, but Mr. Samuel Spiker, the gentleman (for 
he is at heart a gentleman) whom I introduced to 
you just now. 

Verb. I have seen so little of him, Papa, I 
cannot love liim — you must really excuse me ! 
■ Sir p. Ah, but you will, my darling, you ivill 
■ — I know your unselfish nature — you will, to save 
your poor old dad from a terrible disgrace ... yes, 
disgrace, listen ! Twenty-seven years ago — (lie 



UNDER THE HAIIEOW. 183 

tells her all). Verbena, at this very moment, there 
is a subscription on foot in the county to present 
me with my photograph, done by an itinerant pho- 
tographer of the highest eminence, and framed and 
glazed ready for hanging. Is that photograph 
never to know the nail which even now awaits it ? 
Can you not surrender a passing girlish fanc}^, to 
spare your fond old father's fame ? Mr. Spiker is 
peculiar, perhaps, in many ways — not quite of our 
monde — but he loves you, sincerely, my child, and 
that is in itself a recommendation. Ah, I see — 
my prayers are vain ... be happy, then. As for 
me, let the police come — I am ready ! [ Weeps. 

Verb. Not so, Papa; I will marry this Mr. 
Spiker, since it is your Avish. 

[Sir Posh, dries his eyes. 

Sir p. Here, Spiker, my dear fellow, it is all 
right. Come in. She accepts you. 

Enter Spiker. 

Sp. Thought she Avould. Sensible little gal ! 
Well, Miss, you sha'n't regret it. Bless you, we'll 
be as chummy together as a couple of little dicky- 
birds. 

Verb. Mr. Spiker, let us understand one an- 
other. I will do my best to be a good wife to jo\x 



184 MB. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

— but chumminess is not mine to give, nor can I 
promise ever to be your dicky-bird. 

I]nter Lord Bleshugh. 

Loud B. Sir Poshbury, may I have five min- 
utes with you? Verbena, you need not go. 
(^Looking at Spiker.) Perhaps this person will 
kindly relieve us of his presence. 

Sp. Sorry to disoblige, old fellow, but I'm on 
duty where Miss Verbena is now, you see, as she's 
just promised to be my wife. 

Lord B. Your wife ! 

Verb, (^faintly). Yes, Lord Bleshugh, his 
wife ! 

Sir p. Yes, my poor boy, Ms wife ! 

[Verbena totters^ and falls heavily in a dead faint ^ 
R. c, upsetting a fioiuer-stand ; Lord Bleshugh 
staggexs^ and swoons on sofa^ C, overturning a 
table of hnickknacks ; Sir Poshbury sinks into 
chair ^ L. c, and covers his face with his hands. 
Sp. (looking down on them triumphantly^. Under 

the Harrow, by Gad ! Under the LI arrow ! 

[ Curtain^ and end of Act I. 



UNDER THE IIABllOW. 185 

ACT IT. 

Scene. — Same as in Act I. ; viz.^ the Moyming-Room 
at Natterjack Hall. livening of same day. Enter 
Blethers. 

Blethers. Another of Sir Poslibmy's birth- 
days almost gone — and my secret still untold ! 
(^Dodders.^ I can't keep it up much longer. , . . 
Ha, here comes his Lordship — he does look mortal 
bad, that he do! Miss Verbena ain't treated him 
too well, from all I can hear, poor young feller ! 

Enter Lord Bleshugh. 

Lord Bleshugh. Blethers, by the memory of 
the innumerable half-crowns that have passed be- 
tween us, be my friend now — I have no others 
left. Persuade your young Mistress to come hither 
— you need not tell her /am here, you understand. 
Be discreet, and this florin shall be yours ! 

Blethers. Leave it to me, my lord. I'd tell 
a lie for less than that, any day, old as I am ! 

[Exit. 

Lord Bl. I cannot rest till I have heard from 
her own lips that the past few hours have been 
nothing but a horrible dream. . . . She is coming ! 
Now for the truth ! 



186 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

Enter Verbena. 

Verbena. Papa, did 3^011 want me ? (^Recog- 
nizes Lord B. — controls herself to a cold formality.'^ 
My lord, to what do I owe this — this unexpected 
intrusion ? [Pants violently. 

Lord Bl. Verbena, tell me, you cannot really 
prefer that seedy snob in the burst boots to me ? 

Verb, (aside'). How can I tell him the truth 
without betraying dear Papa? No, I must lie, 
though it kills me. (To Lord B.) Lord Bleshugh, 
I have been trifling with you. I — I never loved 
you. 

Lord B. I see, and all the while your heart 
was given to a howling cad? 

Verb. And if it was, who can account for the 
vagaries of a girlisli fancy ! We Avomen are capri- 
cious beings, j^ou know. ( With hysterical gayety.) 
But you are unjust to Mr. Spiker — he has not yet 
howled in my presence — (aside) — though I very 
nearly did in his! 

Lord B. And you really love him? 

Verb. I — I love him. (Aside.) My heart 
•will break ! 

Lord B. Then I have no more to say. Fare- 
well, Verbena ! Be as happy as the knowledge 
that you have wrecked one of the brightest careers, 



VNBEE THE HARROW. 187 

and soured one of the sweetest natures in tlie 
county, will permit. ( Goes yp stage^ and returns.) 
A few days since you presented me with a cloth 
pen-wiper, in the sliape of a dog of uriknown breed. 
If you will kindly wait here for half-an-hour, I 
shall have much pleasure in returning a memento 
which I have no longer the right to retain, and 
there are several little things I gave you which I 
can take back with me at the same time, if you 
will have them put up in readiness. \^Exit. 

Verb. Oh, he is cruel, cruel I but I shall keep 
the little bone yard-measure, and the diamond pig 
— they are all I have to remind me of him ! 

Enter Spikeh, slightly intoxicated. 

Spiker (throwing himself on sofa ivithout seeing 
Verb.) I don' know how it is, but I feel precioush 
shleepy, somehow. P'raps I did partake lil' too 
freely of Sir Poshbury's gen'rous Burgundy. 
Wunner why they call it "gen'rous" — it didn't 
give me anything — 'cept a bloomin' headache ! 
However, I punished it, and old Poshbury had to 
look on and let me. He-he ! (^Examining his hand.) 
Who'd think, to look at thish thumb, that there 
was a real live Baronet squirmin' under it. But 
there ish I \_Snores. 



188 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

Verb, (hitterl//). And. that thing is my affianced 
husband ! Ah, no, I cannot go through with it ; he 
is too repulsive ! If I could but find a way to free 
myself without compromising poor Papa. The 
sofa-cushion ! Dare I ? It would be quite pain- 
less. . . . Surely the removal of such an odious 
wretch cannot be Murder. ... I will ! (Slow 
music. She gets a cushmi, and presses it tightly 
over Spiker's head.) Oh, I luish he wouldn't 
gurgle like that, and how he does kick ! He can- 
not even die like a gentleman ! (Spiker's ^^V^s 
become more and more feehlci and eventually cease.) 
How still he lies ! I almost wish. ... Mr. Spiker, 
Mr. Spi-ker ! . . . no answer — oh, I really have 
suffocated him ! (Enter Sir Posh.) You, 
Papa? 

Sir Posh. What, Verbena, sitting with, hem 
— Samuel in the gloaming ? (Sings tvith forced 
hilarity.) '^ In the gloaming, oh, my darling!" 
that's as it should be — quite as it should be I 

Verb, (in didl., strained accents). Don't sing, 
Papa, I cannot bear it — 'just yet. I have just 
suffocated Mr. Spiker with a sofa-cushion. See ! 

l^Shoivs the body. 

Sir p. Then I am safe — he \^'ill tell no 
tales now! But, my child, are you aware of the 



UNDER THE HAEBOW. 189 

very serious nature of your act ? An act of which, 
as a eJustice of the Peace, I am bound to take some 
official cognizance ! 

Verb. Do not scold me. Papa. Was it not 
done for 7/our sake ? 

Sm P. I cannot accept such an excuse as that. 
I fear your motives were less disinterested tha.n 
you would have me believe. And now, Verbena, 
what will ^ou do ? As your father, I would gladly 
screen you — but, as a Magistrate, I cannot prom- 
ise to be more than passive. 

Verb. Listen, Papa. I have thought of a plan. 
Why should I not wheel this sofa to the head of 
the front-door steps, and tip it over? They will 
only think he fell down when intoxicated — for he 
had taken far too much wine. Papa ! 

Sir p. Always the same quick-witted little 
fairy ! Go, my child, but be careful that none of 
the servants see you. • (Verb, zvheels the sofa and 
Spiker's hody out, L. u. e.) My poor impulsive 
darling, I do hope she will not be seen — servants 
do make such mischief! But there's an end of 
Spiker, at any rate. I should not have liked him 
for a son-in-law, and with him goes the only person 
who knows my unhappy secret I 



190 MB. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

Enter Blethers. 

Blethers. Sir Poslibmy, I Lave a secret to 
reveal wliicli I can preserve no longer — it concerns 
something that happened many years ago — it is 
connected with your birthday^ Sir PosliLury. 

Sib p. (^quailiiig^. What, another I I must 
stop Ills tongue at all hazards. Ah, the rotten 
sash -line ! (^To Blethers.) I will hear you, but 
first close yonder window, the night-air is growing 
chill. 

[Blethers goes to ivindoiv at hack. Slow music. 
As lie approaches it Lord Bleshugh enters 
(r 2 e), and.1 with a smothered cry of horror., 
drags him hack hy the coat-tails — just before the 
windoiv falls tuith a tremendous crash. 

Sir p. Bleshugh ! What have you done ? 
Lord Blesh. (^sternly^. Saved Am from an 
untimely end — and yoti from — crime. 

Collapse of Sir P. Enter Verbena, terrified. 

Verb. Papa, Papa, hide me ! The night air 
and the cold stone steps have restored Mr. Spiker 
to life and consciousness I He is coming to de- 
nounce me — you — both of us ! He is awfully 
annoyed ! 



UNDER THE UAIUIOW, 191 

Sir p. (recklessly^. It is useless to appeal to 
me, cliilcl. I have enougli to do to look after my- 
self — now. 

\_JEnter Spike ii, indignant. 

Spiker. Pretty treatment for a gentleman, 
this I Look here, Posh bury, this young lady has 
choked me with a cushion, and then 23itched me 
down the front steps — I might have broken my 
neck. 

Sir p. It was an oversight which I lament, but 
for which I must decline to be answerable. You 
must settle your differences with her. 

Spiker. And you too, old horse I You had a 
hand in this, I know, and I'll pay 3'ou out for it 
now. My life ain't safe if I marry a girl like that, 
so Fve made up my mind to split and be done 
witli it ! 

Sir p. (contemptuousli/') . If yoii don't, Bleth- 
ers tvill. So do your worst, you hound ! 

Spiker. Very well then; I will. (To the 
rest.^ I denounce this man for travelling with a 
half-ticket from Edgware Road to Baker Street on 
his thirteenth birthday, the 31st of March, twenty- 
seven years a.go this very day ! [^Sensation. 

Blethers. Hear me ! It was not his thirteenth 
birthday ; Sir Poshbury's birthday falls on the 1st 



192 3IR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

of April — to-morrow! I wa,s sent to register the 
birth, and, by a blunder, which I have repented 
bitterly ever since, unfortunately gave the wrong 
date. Till this moment I have never had the 
manliness or sincerity to confess my error, for fear 
of losing my situation. 

Sir p. (to Spiker). Do you hear, you paltry 
knave ? I was not thirteen. Consequently I was 
under age, and the By-laws are still unbroken. 
Your hold over me is gone — gone forever 1 

Spiker. H'm — Spiker spiked this time ! 

[^Retires up disconcerted. 

Lord B. And you did not really love him 
after all, Verbena ? 

Verb, (with arch i^ride^. Have I not proved 
my indifference ? 

Lord B. But I forget — you admitted that 
you were but trifling with my affection — take 
back your pin-cushion I 

Verb. Kee^D it. All that I did was done to 
spare my father ! 

Sir Posh. Who, as a matter of fact, was inno- 
cent — but I forgive you, child, for your unworthy 
suspicions. Bleshugh, my boy, you have saved 
me from unnecessarily depriving myself of the 
services of an old retainer. Blethers, I condone a 



UNDER THE HAEEOW. 193 

dissimulation for which you have done much to 
atone. Spiker, you vile and miserable rascal, be 
off, and be thankful that I have sufficient mag- 
nanimity to refrain from giving you in charge. 
(Spiker sneaks off crushed.') And now, my chil- 
dren, and my faithful old servant, congratulate me 
that I am no longer — 

Verbena and Lord Bleshugh (together'). 
jlr^-^^v the Harrow. 

\_Affecting Family Tableau and quick Curtain. 



X. — TOMMY AND HIS SISTER JANE. 

Once more we draw upon our favorite source 
of inspiration, — the poems of the Misses Taylor. 
The dramatist is serenely confident that the new 
London County Council Censor of Plays, when- 
ever that much-desired official is appointed, will 
highly approve of this little piece, on account of 
the multiplicity of its morals. It is intended to 
teach, amongst other useful lessons, that — as the 
poem on which it is founded puts it — " Fruit in 
lanes is seldom good ; " also, that it is not always 
prudent to take a hint: again, that constructive 
murder is distinctly reprehensible, and should 
never be indulged in by persons who cannot con- 
trol their countenances afterwards. Lastly, that 
suicide may often be averted by the exercise of a 
little savoir vivre. 

TOMMY AND HIS SISTER JANE. 

ClIAIlACTERS. 

Tommy and his Sister Jane {Taylorian Twins, and awful 

examples). 
Their Wicked Uncle {plagiarized from a forgotten Nursery 

Story, and slightly altered). 
Old Farmer Copeer (sJcilled in the use of horse and cattle 

medicines). 

194 



TOMMY AND HIS SISTER JANE. 195 

Scene. — A shady lane ; on the right, a gate lead- 
ing to the farm ; left, some hushes, covered with 
practicable scarlet berries. 

Enter the Wicked Uncle, stealthily. 
The W. U. No peace of mind I e'er shall know 

again 
Till I have cooked the geese of Tom and Jane ! 
But — though a naughty — I'm a nervous nunky, 
For downright felonies I'm far too funky ! 
I'd hire assassins — but of late tlie villains 
Have raised their usual fee to fifteen shillin's ! 
Nor, to reduce their rates, will they engage 
(^Sympathetically?) For two orphans who are 

under age I 
So (as I'd give no more than half a guinea) 
I must myself get rid of Tom and Jenny. 
Yet, like an old soft-hearted fool, I falter, 
And can't make up my mind to risk a halter. 
{Looking off.) Ha, in the distance, Jane and 

little Tom I see I 
These berries Qmeditatively) — why it only needs 

diplomacy. 
Ho-ho, a most ingenious experiment ! 
[Indulges in silent and sinister mirth, as Jane and 
Tom trip in, and regard him ivith innocent 
wonder. 



196 ME. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

Jane. Uncle, what is the joke ? Why all this 

merriment ? 
The W. U. (in guilty confusion^. Not merriment, 

my loves — a trifling spasm — 

Don't be alarmed — your uncle often has 'em! 

I'm feelinof better than I did at first — 

You're looking flushed, though not, I hope with 

thirst? 

\_Inddiously, 

Song hy the Wicked Uncle. 
The sun is scorching overhead ; 

The roads are dry and dusty ; 
And here are berries ripe and red. 

Refreshing when you're thusty ! 
They're hanging just within your reach, 

Inviting you to clutch them ! 
But — as your Uncle — I beseech 

You won't attempt to touch them ? 

ToiviMY aTitf Jane (dutifully^. We'll do whatever 

you beseech, and not attempt to touch them ! 

[^Annoyance of W. U. 
The W. U. 

Temptation (so I've understood) 

A child, in order kept, shuns ; 
And fruit in lanes is seldom good 

(With several exceptions). 



TOMMY AND HIS SISTER JANE. 197 

However freely you partake, 

It can't — as you are young — kill, 

But should it cause a stomach-ache — 
Well, don't blame your Uncle ! 

Tommy and Jane. No, should it cause a stomach- 
ache, we will not blame our Uncle ! 

The W. U. (^aside). They'll need no further 
personal assistance. 

But take the bait when I am at a distance. 

I could not, were I paid a thousand ducats, 

(^With sentiment,) Stand by, and see them kick 
their little buckets. 

Or look on while their sticks this pretty pair cut ! 

[^Stealing off. 
Tommy. What, Uncle, going ? 
The W. U. (with assumed jauntiness'). Just to 

get my hair cut ! [ Goes. 

Tommy (looking wistfully at the berries). I say, 

they do look nice, Jane, such a lot too ! 
Jane (demurely). Well, Tommy, Uncle never 

told us not to. 

[Slow music ; they gradually approach the berries^ 
which they pick and eat with increasing relish^ cul- 
minating in a dance of delight. 



198 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC BALL. 

Duet. — Tommy and Jane (ivith steio-dance). 
Tommy (^dancing., with his mouth full^. These 

berries ain't so bad — although they've far 

too mucli acidity. 
Jane (^ditto'). To me, their only drawback is a 

dash of insipidity. 
Tommy (rudely'). Bat, all the same, you're 

wolfing 'em with wonderful avidity ! 
Jane (indignantly). No, that I'm not, so there 

now ! 
Tommy (calmly). But you are! 

Jane. And so are you! 

\_They retire up., dancing., and eat more berries — 

after ivhich they gaze thoughtfully at each other. 
Jane. This fruit is most refreshing — but it's 

curious how it cloys on you !• 
Tommy (with anxiety). I wonder why all appetite 

for dinner it destroys in you ! 
Jane. Oh, Tommy, aren't you half afraid you've 

ate enougli to poison you ? 
Tommy. No, that I'm not — so there now! etc. 

\_They dance as before. 
Tommy. Jane, is your palate parching up in hor- 
rible aridity? 
Jane. It is, and in my throat's a lump of singular 

solidity. 



TOMMY AND HIS SISTER JANE. 199 

Tommy. Then that is why you're dancing with 

such poker-like rigidity. 
[_Iiefrain as before ; they dance with decreasing spirit^ 
and finally stojJ, and fan one another with their 
hats. 
Jane. I'm better now that on my brow there is a 

little breeziness. 
ToMiNiY. My passing qualm is growing calm, and 

tightness turns to easiness. 
Jane. You seem to me tormented by a tendency 

to queasiness? 
[Refrain ; they attempt to continue the dance — hut 

suddenly sit down side hy side. 
Jane (ivith a gasp^. I don't know what it is — 

but, oh, I do feel so peculiar ! 
Tommy (with a gulp). I've tumults taking place 

within that I may say unruly are. 
Jane. Why, Tomm}^, you are turning green — 

you really and you tridy are ! 
Tommy. No, tliat I'm not, so there now ! 
Jane. But you are I 

Tommy. And so are you ! 

\_Melancholy music; to ivhich Tommy and Jane, 
after a few convulsive movemeyits^ gradually he- 
come inoMimate. Enter old Farmer Copeer 
from gate., carrying a large hottle laheUed " Cattle 
Medicine.'" 



200 3IB. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

Faemer C. It's time I gave the old bay mare her 
drench. [Stumbles over the children. 

What's here ? A lifeless lad ! — and little wench ! 

Been eating berries — where did they get them 
idees? 

For cows, when took so, I've the reg'lar remedies. 

I'll try 'em here — and if their state the worse is, 

Wh}^, they shall have them balls I give my 'erses ! 

[Carries the bodies off just before the W. U. re-enters. 

W. U. The children — gone ? yon bush of ber- 
ries less full! 
Hooray, my little stratagem's successful \ 
[Dances a triumphant pas seul. Re-enter Farmer C. 

Farmer C. Been looking for your little niece 

and nephew? 
The W. U. Yes, searching for them every- 
where — 

Farmer C. (ironically'}. Oh, 7^^?; you? 

Then let me tell you, from all pain they're free, sir. 

The W. U. (falling on his knees}. J didn't poison 
them — ^it wasn't me^ sir ! 

Farmer C. I thought a^ much — a constable I'll 
run for. [Exit. 

The W. U. My wretched nerves again ! TMb 
time I'm done for I 



T0M2IY AND HIS SISTEB JANE. 201 

Well, though I'm trapped, and useless all disguise is, 
My case shall ne'er come on at the Assizes ! 

[Rushes desperately to tree and crams himself with 
the remaining berries^ tvhich produce an almost in- 
stantaneous effect. Re-enter ToM and Jane from 
gate., looking pale and limp). Terror of the 
Wicked Uncle as he turns and recognizes them. 

The W. U. (with tremulous politeness'). The shades 
of Jane and Tommy, I presume ? 

\_Re-enter Farmer C. 

Jane and ToivcvrY (pohiting to Farmer C). His 
Cattle Mixtures snatched us from the tomb ! 

The W. U. (with a flicker of hope). Why, then 
the self-same drugs will ease my torments ! 

Farmer C. (chuckling). Too late ! they've drunk 
the lot, the little vormints ! 

The W. U. (Utterly). So out of life I must in- 
glorious wriggle. 

Pursued by Tommy's grin, and Jenny's giggle I 

[Dies in great agony., while Tommy, Jane, aiid 
Farmer Copeer look on ivith mixed emotions as 
the Curtain falls. 



XI. — THE RIVAL DOLLS. 

Miss Jenny and Polly had each a new dolly." — Vide Poem. 
Chaeacteiis. 
Miss Jenny ... 



, By the Sisters Leamae. 
Miss Polly . 

The Soldier Doll . ) 

}■ By the Two Armstrongs. 
The Sailor Doll . ) 

ScEKE. — A Nursery. Enter Miss Jenny and 

Miss Polly, who perform a blameless step-dance 

with an improving chorus. 

* 
Oh, isn't it jolly ! Ave've each a new dolly, 

And one is a Soldier, the other's a Tar ; 

We're fully contented with what's been presented. 

Such good little children we both of us are I 

\_They dance up to a cupboard^ from ivhich they bring 
out two large Dolls^ ivhich they place on chairs. 

Miss J. DonH they look nice I Come, Polly, let 

us strive 
To make ourselves believe that they're alive ! 
Miss P. (^addressing Sailor D.). I'm glad you're 

mine. I dote on all that's nautical. 
202 



THE RIVAL DOLLS. 203 

The Sailor D. (^opening his eyes suddenly'). Ex- 
cuse me, Miss, your sister's more my sort o' 
gal. 

\_Kisses his hand to Miss J., ivho shrinks hack^ 
shocked and alarmed. 

Miss J. Oh, Polly, did you hear ? I feel so shy I 
The Sailor D. (with mild self-assertion), /can 
say " Pa ■' and " Ma " — and wink my eye. 

\_Does so at Miss P., who runs in terror to Miss J.'s 
side. 

Miss J. Why, both are showing signs of ani- 
mation ! 

Miss P. Who'd think we had such strong ima- 
gination ! 

The Soldier D. (aside to the Sailor D.). I say, 
old fellow, we have caught their fancy — 

In each of us they now a real man see I 

Let's keep it up ! 

The Sailor D. (dubiously). D'ye think as we 
can do it? 

The Soldier D. You stick by me, and I will see 
you through it. 

Sit up, and turn your toes out, — don't you loll ; 

Put on the Man, and drop the bloomin' Doll ! 



204 MB. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

\_The Sailor T)01Aj pulh himself together., and 7ises 
from chair importantly. 

The Sailor D. (in the manner of a Miisic-hall 
Chairman^. Ladies, witli your kind leave, 
this gallant gent 
Will now his military sketch present. 
[Miss J. and P. applaud: the Soldier D., after 
feebly expostulating., is induced to sing. 

Song, by the Soldier Doll. 
When I used to be displayed, 
In the Burlington Arcade, 
With artillery arrayed 
Underneath. 

Shoulder Hump I 

I imagine that I made 
All the Lady Dolls afraid, 
I should draw my battle-blade 
From its sheath. 

Shoulder Hump ! 

For I'm Mars's gallant son, 
And my back I've shown to none, 
Nor was ever- seen to run 
From the strife ! 

Shoulder Hump I 



THE RIVAL DOLLS. 205 

Oh, the battles I'd have won, 
And^the dashing deeds have done, 
If I'd ever fired a gun 
In my hfe ! 

Shoulder Hump ! 

Refrain (to be sung marching round Stage). 
By your right flank, Wheel ! 
Let the front rank kneel ! 
With the bristle of the steel 

To the foe. 
Till their regiments reel, 
At our rattling peal. 
And the military zeal 
We show ! 
[Repeat, with the whole company marching round 

after him. 
The Soldier D. My friend will next oblige — < 

this jolly Jack Tar. 
Will give his song and chorus in charack-tar! 

\_Same business with Sailor D. 

Song, by the Sailor Doll. 

In costume I'm 

So maritime. 

You'd never suppose the fact is, 



206 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

That with the Fleet 

In Regent Street, 

I'd precious little naval practice ! 

There was saucy craft. 

Rigged fore an' aft, 

Inside o' Mr. Cre-mer's, 

From Noah's Arks to Clipper-built barks, 

Like-wise mechanical stea-mers. 

Chorus. 

But to navigate the Serpentine, 

Yeo-ho, my lads, ahoy ! 
With clockwork, sails, or spirits of wine, 

Yeo-ho, my lads, ahoy ! 
I did respeckfully decline, 
So I was left in port to pine. 
Which wasn't azactually the line 
Of a rollicking Sailor Boy^ Yeo-ho ! 
Of a rollicking Sailor Bo-oy ! 

Yes, there was lots 

Of boats and yachts, 

Of timber and of tin, too ; 

But one and all 

Was far too small 

For a doll o' my size to get into. 



THE RIVAL DOLLS. 207 

I was too big 

On any brig 

To ship without disas-ter, 

And it wouldn't never do 

When the cap'n and the crew 

Were a set o' little swabs all plaster ! 

Chorus. 
So to navigate the Serpentine, etc. 

An Ark is p'raps 

The berth for chaps 

As is fond o' Natural Hist'ry. 

But I sez to Shem 

And the rest o' them, 

" How you get along at all's a myst'ry ! 

With a Wild Beast Show 

Let loose below, 

And four fe-males on deck too ! 

I never could agree 

With your liappy fami-lee, 

And your lubberly ways I objeck to." 

\_Chorus. HoryipijJe hy the company .^ after which 
the Soldier Doll advances condescendingly to 
Miss Jenny. 



2G8 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

The Soldiee, D. Invincible I'm reckoned by the 

Ladies, 
But yield to you — though conquering my trade 

is! 
Miss J. (repulsing luTn). Oh, go away, you great 
conceited thing, you ! 

\_The ^OISDIEB. persists in offering her attentions. 

Miss P. (watching them bitterly^. To be deserted 
by one's doll does sting you ! 

[The Sailor D. approaches. 

The Sailor D. (to Miss P.) Let me console you, 

Miss, a Sailor Doll 
As swears his 'art was ever true to Poll ! 

(N. B. — Good opportunity for Song here.^ 

Miss P. (indignantly to Miss J.)- Your Sailor's 

teasing me to be his idol ! 
Do make him stop — (spitefully') — when you've 

quite done with my doll ! 
Miss J. (scornfully). If you suppose /want your 

wretched warrior, 
I'm sorry for you ! 

Miss P. I for you am sorrier. 

Miss J. (iveeping^ n.). Polly preferred to me — 
what ignominy I 



THE RIVAL DOLLS. 209 

Miss P. (^tveepin(/^ l.). My horrid Soldier jilting 
me for Jenny ! 

{^The two dolls face one another^ c. 

Sailor D. (to Soldiek D.). You've made her 

sluice her skjdights now, yon swab I 
Soldier D. (to Sailor D.). As you have broke 

her heart, I'll break your nob ! ^Hlts him. 
Sailor D. (m u pale fury). This insult must be 

blotted out in bran ! 
Soldier D. (fiercely). Come on, I'll shed your 

sawdust — if I can ! 
[Miss J. and P. throw themselves between the com- 
batants. 
Miss J. For any mess you make we shall be 

scolded, 
So wait until a drugget we've unfolded I 

[ They lay down drugget on Stage, 

The Soldier D. impolitely). No hurry. Miss, we 

don't object to waiting. 
The Sailor D. (^aside). His valor — like my 

own — 's evaporating ! 
(Defiantly to Soldier D.). On guard! You'll 

see how soon Fli run you through ! 
(Confidentially.) (If you will not prod me, I 

won't pink you.) 



210 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

The Soldier D. Through your false kid my 

deadly blade I'll pass \ 
(^Confidentially). (Look here, old fellow, don't 

you be a hass /) 
[They exchange passes at a considerable distance. 
The Sailor D. (^aside). Don't lose your temper 

now ! 
Soldier D. Don't get excited. 

Do keep a little farther off f 
Sailor D. Delighted ! 

[Wou7ids Soldier D., by misadventure. 
Soldier D. (^annoyed}. There now, you've gone 

and made upon my wax a dent ! 
Sailor D. Excuse me, it was really quite an 

accident. 
Soldier D. (^savagelyy. Such clumsiness would 

irritate a saint I [Stabs Sailor Doll. 

Miss J. and P. (imploringly). Oh, stop ! the sight 

of sawdust turns us faint I 

[They drop into chairs^ swooning. 
Sailor D. I'll pay you out for that ! 

[Stabs Soldier D. 
Soldier. D. Right through you've poked me ! 

Sailor D. So you have me! 
Soldier D. You shouldn't have provoked me ! 

[They fall transfixed. 



THE RIVAL DOLLS. 211 

Sailor D. {faintly). Alas, we have been led 

away by vanity. 
Dolls shouldn't try to imitate humanity ! \^Dies. 
Soldier D. For, if they do, they'll end like us, 

unpitied, 
Each on the other's sword absurdly spitted ! 

[Dies, Miss J. and P. revive, and heyid sadly over 
the corpses. 

Miss JENinr. From their untimely end we draw 

this moral. 
How wrong it is, even for dolls, to quarrel ! 
Miss Polly. Yes, Jenny, in the fate of these 

poor fellows see 
What sad results may spring from female jealousy ! 

\_They embrace penitently as Curtain falls. 



XIL — CONRAD; OR THE THUMB- 
SUCKER. 

(ADAPTED FREELY FROM A WELL-KNOWN POEM 
IN THE " STRUWWELPETER.") 

Characters. 

CoNKAD {aged 6). 

Conrad's Mother (47). 

The Scissorman (age immaterial). 

Scene. — A71 apartment in the house of Conrad's 
Mother, window in centre at hack., opening upon 
a quiet thoroughfare. It is dusk, a7id the room is 
lighted only hy the reflected gleam from the street- 
lamps. Conrad discovered half-hidden hy left 
wiiidoiv-curtain. 

Coi^^ AT) (watching street^. Still there! For 
full an hour he has not budged 



m 



T 



Beyond the circle of yon lamp-post s rays I 
The gaslight falls upon his crimson hose, 
And makes a steely glitter at his thigh, 
While from the shadow peers a hatchet-face 
And fixes sinister malignant eyes — 

212 



CONRAD; OR THE THUMBSUCKER. 213 

On whom ? (^Shuddering.) I dare not trust my- 
self to guess 
And yet — ah, no — it cannot be myself ! 
I am so young — one is still young at six ! — 
What man can say that I have injured him? 
Since, in my mother's absence all the day 
Engaged upon Municipal affairs, 
I peacefully beguile the weary hours 
By suction of consolatory thumbs. 

[^Here he inserts his thumb in his mouthy hut almost 
instantly removes it with a start. 

Again I meet those ej^es 1 I'll look no more — 
But draw the blind and shut my terror out. 

[Draws blind and lights candle ; Stage lightens. 
Heigho, I wish my Mother were at home ! 
(^Listening,) At last ! I hear her latch-key in the 
door ! 

\_Enter Conead's Mother, a lady of strong-minded 
appearance^ rationally attired. She carries a 
large reticule full of documents. 

Conrad's M. Would, Conrad, that you were 
of riper years. 
So you might share your Mother's joy to-day, 
The day that crowns her long and arduous toil 
As one of London's County Councillors ! 



214 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

Conrad. Nay, speak ; for though my mind be 
immature, 
One topic still can charm my infant ear. 
That ever craves the oft-repeated tale. 
I love to hear of that august assembly 

[^Hh Mother lifts her bonnet solemnly. 
In which my Mother's honored voice is raised! 

C.'s M. (^gratified'). Learn, Conrad, then, that, 
after many months 
Of patient "lobbying" (you've heard the term?) 
The measure by my foresight introduced 
Has triumphed by a bare majority ! 

Con. My bosom thrills with dutiful delight — 
Although I yet for information wait 
As to the scope and purpose of the statute. 

C.'s M. You show an interest so intelligent 
That well deserves it should be satisfied. 
Be seated, Conrad, at your Mother's knee, 
And you shall hear the full particulars. 
You know how zealously I advocate 
The sacred cause of Nursery Reform ? 
How through my efforts every infant's toys 
Are carefully inspected once a month ? — 

Con. (wearily'). Nay, Mother, you forget — I 
have no toys. 

C.'s M. Which brings you under the exemption 
clause. 



CONBAD; OR THE TIIUMBSUCKER. 215 

But — to resume; how Nursery Songs and Tales 

Must now be duly licensed by our Censor, 

And any deviation from the text 

Forbidden under heavy penalties ? 

All that you know. Well ; with concern of late, 

I have remarked among our infancy 

The rapid increase of a baneful habit 

On which I scarce can bring my tongue to dwell. 

l^The Stage darker ; blind at hack illuminated. 
Oh, Conrad, there are children — think of it! — 
So lost to every sense of decency 
That, in mere wantonness or brainless sloth, 
They obstinately suck forbidden thumbs ! 

[Conrad starts with irrepressible emotion. 
Forgive me if I shock your innocence ! 
(^Sadly?) Such things exist — but soon shall cease 

to be, 
Thanks to the measure we have passed to-day ! 

Con. (with growing uneasiness^. But how can 
statutes check such practices ? 

C.'s M. (patting his head^. Right shrewdly 
questioned, boy ! I come to that. 
Some timid sentimentalist advised 
Compulsory restraint in woollen gloves, 
Or the deterrent aid of bitter aloes. 
/saw the evil had too deep a seat 



216 ]iIR. PU ARCH'S MODEL 31 U SIC HALL, 

To yield to such half-hearted remedies. 

No; Ave must cut, ere we could. hope to cure! 

Nay, interrupt me not ; my Bill appoints 

A new official, by the style and title 

Of " London County Council Scissorman," 

For the detection of young " suck-a-thumbs." 

[Here the shadow of a huge hmid brandishing a 
gigantic pair of shears appears upon the blind. 

GoN. (hiding his face in his Mother's ?ap.) Ah, 
Mother, see ! . . . the scissors ! . . . On the 
blind I 
C.'s M. Why, how you tremble ! You've no 
cause to fear. 
The shadow of his grim insignia 
Should have no terror — save for thumbsuckers. 
Con. And what for them f 

C.'s M. (complacently). A doom devised by me — 
The confiscation of the culprit's thumbs. 
Thus shall our statute cure while it corrects, 
For those who have no thumbs can err no more. 

[Tlie shadow slowly passes on the blind., Conrad 
appearing relieved at its departure. Loud knock- 
ing luithout. Both start to their feet. 

C.'s M. Who knocks so loud at such an hour 
as this ? 



CONRAD; OR THE THUMB SUCKER. 217 

A Voice. Open, I charge ye. In the Council's 

name ! 
C.'s M. 'Tis the Official Red-legged Scissorman, 
Who doubtless calls to thank me for the post. 
• Con. (luith a gloomy determination). More like 
his business, Madam, is with — Me ! 
C.'s M. ^suddenly enlightened). A Suck-a-thumb? 

. . . you, COKRAD? 
Con. (^desperately). Ay, — from birth! 

[Profound silence., as Mother aud Son face one an- 
other. The knocking is reneived. 

C.'s M. Oh, this is horrible — it must not be! 
I'll shoot the bolt and barricade the door. 
[Conrad places himself before it, and addresses his 

Mother in a tone of incisive irony. 

Con. Why, where is all the zeal you showed 
of late? 
Is't thus that you the Roman Matron play? 
Trick not a statute of your own devising. 
Come, your official's waiting — let him in! 

[C.'s M. shrinks hack appalled. 

So? you refuse ! — (throwing open door) — then — ■ 
enter, Scissorman ! 

\Enter the Scissorman, masked and in red tights, 
tvith his hand upon the hilt of his shears. 



218 MR. PUNCH'S MODEL MUSIC HALL. 

The S. (m a passionless tone^. Though sorry 
to create unpleasantness, 
I claim the thumbs of this young gentleman, 
Which these own eyes have marked between his 
lips. 
C.'s M. ^frantically') . Thou minion of a meddling 
tyranny, 
Go exercise thy loathsome trade elsewhere I 

The S. (^civilly'). I've duties here that must be 

first performed. 
C.'s M. Qivildly). Take my two thumbs for his ! 
The S. 'Tis not the law — 

Which is a model of lucidity. 

Con. (calmly'). Sir, you speak well. My thumbs 
are forfeited. 
And they alone must pay the penalty. 

Thy, ^. (with approval). Right I Step with me 
into the outer hall, 
And have the business done without delay. 

C.'s M. (throwing herself bettveen them.) Stay, 
I'm a Councillor — this law was mine! 
Hereby I do suspend the clause I drew. 

The S. You should have drawn it milder. 
Con. Must I teach 

A parent laws were meant to be obeyed ? 
[jTo Sc] Lead on, sir. (To his Mother with cold 
courtesy.) Madam, — may I trouble you? 



CONRAD; OR THE THUMBSUCKER. 219 

[He thrusts her gently aside and passes out with the 
Sc. ; the door is shut and fastened from ivithout. 
C.'s M. rushes to door ^ which she attempts to force 
without success, 

C.'s M. In vain I batter at a senseless door, 
I'll to the keyhole train my tortured ear. 
(^Listening. ^ Dead silence ! . . . is it over — or, 

to come ? 
Hark ! was not that the click of meeting shears? . . . 
Again ! and followed by the sullen thud 
Of thumbs that drop upon linoleum ! , . . 

[The door is opened and Conrad appears^ pale hut 
erect. N. B. — The whole of this scene has been 
compared to one in '•''La Tosca^''_ which., however.^ 
it exceeds in horror and intensity. 

C.'s M. They send him back to me, bereft of 
both! 
My CoNEAD ! What ? — repulse a Mother's Ai ms I 

Con. (ivith chilling composure^. Yes, Madam, 
for between us ever more, 
A barrier invisible is raised, 
And should I strive to reach those arms again, 
Two spectral thumbs would press me coldly back — 
The thumbs I sucked in blissful ignorance. 
The thumbs that solaced me in solitude, 



220 Mli. PUNCH'S MODEL 21 U SIC HALL. 



-<! (p 



The thumbs your County Council took from me, 
And your endearmeiits scarcely will replace! 
Where, Madam, lay the sin in sucking them ? 
The dog will lick his foot, the cat her claw, 
His paws sustain the hiljernating bear — 
And you decree no law to punish them I 
Yet, in your rage for infantine reform, 
You rushed this most lidiculous enactment — 
Its earliest victim — your neglected son ! 

C.'s M. (^falling at hufeef). Say, Conrad, you 

will some day pardon me ? 
Con. (hitterlyy as he regards Ms maimed hands.') 

Ay — on the day these pollards send forth 

shoots I 

[His Mother turns aside with a hearthrohen wail ; 
Conrad standing apart in gloomy estrangement 
as the Curtain descends. 



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